Arm Candy
by Kieren
Summary: Hyuuga Hinata, shy and reserved PR officer, has to do damage control for one of NRL's sexiest players and resident bad boy, Sabaku Gaara, after a scandal erupts. The problem? He's making her a little hot under the collar and her brain turn to mush. AU. [A rewrite of Rollercoaster] [On-going]
1. One

**Characters featured _(by no ranking whatsoever): _**Sabaku no Gaara, Hyuuga Hinata, Jiraiya, Yuuhi Kurenai, Temari, Kankurou, Inuzuka Kiba, Uzumaki Naruto, Akimichi Chouji

**A/N: **Man, I know its been too long. I apologise for making the readers of _Rollercoaster_ wait because, yes, this is the second version of _Rollercoaster_ re-named _Arm Candy_. I thought about it long and hard and I really, really hope that I'm compensating for the long, long wait with this.

I won't keep you stuck at the top of this page much longer, because the first chapter or Arm Candy is pretty lengthy. (By the way, Gaara might seem a little OOC here. He talks a little bit more, but nevertheless, I hope he's still the familiar Gaara we all know) :) And do pardon me if you spot any mistakes. (I hope not!) Updates will be a little slow. Thanks for your understanding. ;D

**Warning**: Please read this story at your own discretion, and heed the rating of this fic. I took the liberty to stretch some truths about the NRL and their players so please forgive me if you're a huge fan and you spot mistakes or errors about the sport in this fic. I fully respect the sport and profession, and I do not mean to insult/offend anyone with my inaccuracy.

**Disclaimer: **_Naruto _and all characters are created by Masashi Kishimoto. All cities located in Suna in this story are fictional. All non-Naruto characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

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><p><strong><em>Arm Candy<em>**

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><p><em>Do you take sugar?<br>One lump or two?_

_Take a bottle, take a bottle_  
><em>Shake it up, shake it up<em>  
><em>Break the bubble<em>  
><em>Break it up, break it up<em>

_Pour some sugar on me_  
><em>Oh, in the name of love<em>

_- Pour Some Sugar On Me_, Def Leppard

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><p><em>1.<em>

_Highwynne City, Suna_

The gaggle of reporters, photographers and cameramen had been loitering on the steps of the Sand Hawks headquarters since 7.45am that morning, waiting and watching.

For whoever it was, it would be worth the wait.

Honed by years and years of experience to know that if they wanted a worthy quote or two from a man splat in the middle of a scandal, they would have to wait till his arrival.

Reporters fiddled with their pens and flipped through notebooks while photographers adjusted their cameras and inspected the devices. Several conversed to their crew in low tones, glancing every now and then at the entrance to the carpark, adjacent to the headquarters. On the lower left corner of the white building was the logo of the Sand Hawks rugby team, a symbol of a handsome gold hawk clutching a black football within its steely talons.

The relative quietness of the morning was shattered by the low, throaty purr of an engine - all of them turned simultaneously to watch as a jet black Ducati motorbike veered into the carpark. Its owner slid the bike neatly into an appropriate parking lot, killed the engine and proceeded to remove his helmet calmly.

The group promptly stirred to life: A flash of dog-eared notebooks and pens poised against paper, the small whirring sound of telephoto lenses zooming and one or two video cameras were hoisted hastily onto shoulders. Recorders clicked as its owners scurried to the biker, ready to record anything juicy and news worthy their target might have to say.

"Sabaku! What do you have to say to Miraimi's allegations?"

"Is it true that you are the father of her unborn child?"

"Did Miraimi issue an invitation for you to join the Mile High Club while working at Air Kumo?"

Steely jade eyes flicked from his helmet to the reporter who had shouted that last question - Sabaku Gaara noted that he was buried behind a photographer and muscled away by a beefy camera man. The reporter gulped a little, but nevertheless, thrust his recorder forward boldly. Taking one last look at his Ducati, he ignored the gaggle of reporters and their tirade of questions designed to trigger an answer out of him before making his way to the entrance of his rugby team.

Shoving the zip of his leather jacket down, he jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans as his fingers curled unconsciously into his palms. A hot burst of anger flooded through his system, the exact same one since he'd received a call from Seiji Jiraiya, the primary team owner of the Sand Hawks.

He knew who Miraimi Yui was and remembered the night when he'd rejected her - the persistent blond air hostess/groupie who'd tried to get him into her bed after his match against the Iron Jets of Iwa, promising him comfort and a saucy night three months ago. Gaara had rejected her simply because he wasn't in the mood (they'd lost 16-9) and regulations dictated that they should not have a woman in their room during season time when playing in foreign countries. Gaara took his matches with an intense seriousness that belied his attitude - that meant absolutely no fines, no violating of bans, no being kicked out, no mucking around and losing his focus during tours.

He'd turned down her inviting offer straight out. That, had obviously angered Miraimi Yui.

Ever since he started playing rugby professionally for slightly more than a decade, he knew of several groupies who'd taken revenge after having rugby players reject them: by sleeping with their teammates or opponents in order to mock their previous targets.

But, the redhead thought bitterly as he stepped past the glass sliding doors, entering the comfort of the cool air conditioned lobby of the Hawks and leaving behind the little media circus, he certainly hadn't expected her to get revenge by accusing him of impregnating her.

Godammit, she was using an _unborn child_ to wrestle money out of him.

And he absolutely loathed that scheming little idea of hers.

_No_ child should have been used that way.

A bitter taste arose in his mouth, and he punched the button next to the elevators. Even the kindly middle aged receptionist in the lobby, Bunko, had sent him a dark look or two when he'd entered.

Great. Just great.

Miraimi had certainly put him at a disadvantage with the fact that she was a blond. Gaara wasn't embarrass to admit that he had been widely known for dating blonds and only blonds before this scandal: lingerie models, actresses, and other assorted arm candies of his had always been blond. He heard rumours that he'd raised the ire of brunettes out there, and that some of the players were using this to mock him behind his back, but that was none of his concern.

He knew what he was doing and that was it.

Now that a blond had stepped forward to accuse him of fathering her child, he was pretty sure ninety percent of the readers might just believe her.

He needed - wanted - to do something about it, and he would see that Miraimi Yui withdraw her statement. Either that, or find out who had been having sex with her the past few months and bring them to light.

Gaara cursed.

Light footsteps drew his thoughts away from his current predicament to a petite, bespectacled dark haired woman with snow-white eyes, minimal make-up and hair neatly swept into a fashionable bun.

His memory shifted eagerly, but he all he could remember was a blur of faces. He'd probably met her in the halls of the Hawks headquarters before, and as usual, hadn't taken much notice. She was well-dressed: a sleeveless beige blouse with gold buttons tucked neatly into a pair of black office pants and heels adorned her feet. A nondescript black handbag was pushed out of the way by her elbow as she dugged in her document bag for an item.

The redhead had crossed paths with much more attractive women than his new elevator buddy, but he wasn't about to complain, although he thought she looked a little geeky...and well, cute. Definitely not his type, though.

The woman momentarily released her document bag to brush her bangs out of her white eyes, a small breath escaping her pink lips as she gazed into space, as though trying to recall where she had placed her misisng item. Suddenly, sensing someone looking at her, she turned to look at him. Her eyes met his and a blush promptly arose on her cheeks. She averted her gaze and resumed her search.

A light ding signalled the arrival of the elevator, its doors sliding open smoothly. He hung back and allowed her to enter first, before proceeding. The redhead turned to the row of buttons and realised that she was headed for the same floor as him - the 8th.

Before the doors could slide close-

"Wait! Hinata!"

The white eyed woman looked up, pushing up her glasses curiously as Gaara jabbed at the buttons quickly to allow the newcomer entrance to the lift. Irritation nudged at his consciousness - he wanted to get to Jiraiya fast, and although he dreaded seeing the PR team, he knew he had to deal with them, with a scandal like this.

Not that it was his first time though. A smirk graced his lips.

A woman with auburn-brown hair rushed into the lift and barely threw a glance in his general direction.

"Thanks," She gasped without looking at Gaara. The redhead didn't bother to reply, nor ask her what floor she was heading to. He'd assumed that since she hadn't said a word about it and that she was apparently friends with that dark haired woman - what was it? Hinata? - all three of them were probably heading for the eighth floor.

"Morning Kasumi." Hinata said, her voice lowering.

Gaara didn't mean to eavesdrop, but since they were in the same elevator and there was obviously space constraint, he would hear everything that the duo uttered. He had a niggling sense that Hinata was acutely aware of _his_ ability to hear their not-so-subdued conversation between her and that woman called Kasumi. The way she stood and held herself seemed to imply that she was uncomfortable about the entire situation. The latter, however, was obviously unaware of Hinata's subtle body hints and unashamed to broadcast her lift conversation nor spare an effort to lower her volume.

"There was a little column in today's paper saying that a member of the Sand Hawks was actually accused of fathering a child. Can you believe it? I wonder who it is?Did you read the papers today, Hinata?"

"Well y-yes," Hinata answered in a tone that might have been close to a whisper.

Staring straight ahead at the elevator doors, Gaara could feel Hinata's eyes lingering on him.

God. It was either Kasumi had just been hired by some idiot to work for the Sand Hawks, or she really did not have the slightest clue as to who the team players were or what they looked like.

If what Kasumi said was true - then she obviously did not recognise him at all.

Which definitely proved to be a _very_ interesting situation for Ms Hinata and him.

"Do you know who it is?"

"I... can't say anything at this moment, Kasu-"

"Oh my god! You're in the PR team doing damage control for him?"

"Uh..yes, but not just-"

"What's going on anyway? I could meet you for lunch today y'know." Kasumi's voice turned sly and suggestive.

"I can't." Hinata said more firmly this time. "I can't and I... don't want to leak details nor speculate behind their backs."

"Pfft." The redhead imagined Kasumi was waving her hand. "You're always so goody, goody and uptight about this and that. A little info wouldn't hurt, would it?"

Gaara had a sudden urge to put his hands around Kasumi's neck and strangle her. He found himself siding Hinata, and he silently applauded her for her professionalism and steadfastness. She might have sounded shy and timid, but there was something in her voice which led him to suspect that Hinata wasn't easily swayed by such...moronic people despite their persistence, and she stucked smart to the rules of her profession, which was no doubt, PR then.

Again, not that he'd particularly like that department much.

Kasumi's little slip also meant that Hinata would be helping him with his scandal, and chances were, they would probably be heading for the same meeting room Jiraiya had requested him to be present.

"You never know." Hinata said gently and firmly. "Its too risky."

"Aw-"

There was another ding. Gaara didn't move - he held the door open for Hinata who glanced at him, her white eyes expectant, posing a question in those snowy depths:_ Aren't you coming along?_

He inclined his head slightly and stepped out of the lift. Before the doors closed however, he turned casually to Kasumi and gazed into those brown eyes, which widened considerably.

Gaara pressed the elevator button tightly and ignored the little group of people waiting to enter the lift, trying not to look as though they were particularly interested in what he had to say.

"Ms Kasumi," He drawled. "If you wish to know,_ I'm_ the one embroiled in the sex scandal you read today. I'd suggest you not pester Ms..."

He gazed at Hinata, who was frozen in her place upon hearing what he'd said.

"H-Hyuuga." She swallowed, a blush flooding her cheeks.

"I'd suggest that you not pester Ms Hyuuga for more details. Maybe you'd like to switch on your TV and watch this evening's news or buy more of those tabloid magazines people like you have a penchant for reading during your spare time. Or you could just fire your questions at me, if you really really want to know about Miraimi Yui."

Kasumi's mouth opened and her face turned a splotchy combination of red and purple. Gaara released the button and strode toward Hinata as the other office workers stared at them. Cool pieces of jade flicked to the crowd, meeting their gazes boldly. Shaken from their stupor, a few hurried into the lift and muttered amongst themselves, some hiding a smile or two behind their hands.

Gaara arched an eyebrow at Hinata's wide eyed gaze. He brushed past her, but not before jerking his head to the row of meeting rooms allocated on the left side of the eighth floor.

"Coming along, Ms Hyuuga?"

"Y-yes." She stuttered and proceeded to walk with him. "Um...Thank you. For- for that."

"I was merely defending my honor." He said casually, stucking his thumbs into his jeans pockets, aware of the inconscipicuous gazes of curious office workers. "Its not every day that I get a woman accusing me of fathering her child." His voice had a hard edged tone to it.

"Its a difficult time." Hinata said, nodding, straightening her shoulders."Its a pleasure meeting you." She stucked her hand out in an unelegant way he hadn't expected as they walked, her torso turning a little to him, eyes meeting his shyly for a split second.

"Likewise." He took it and was treated to a soft, small palm with a firm grip that he too, hadn't expected. Hell, she had a much stronger handshake than some of the guys he knew.

And that warm, soft hand of hers...

His mind flew, imagining her fair skin against the dark of his chest, moving down slowly-

_Shit. Where had that come from?_

He was getting aroused just because of a bloody handshake, one from Ms Hyuuga no less.

Jiraiya would no doubt have a field trip with that one.

Disgusted, Gaara fought down a scowl and lengthened his strides.

**XXXXX**

Well.

It wasn't even nine, and she'd been through a morning that was definitely more exciting than her entire twenty-nine years of mornings put together. And she owed it all to one hunky rugby player.

Glancing surreptitiously at the tall, muscular frame that was Sabaku Gaara, she couldn't help but admire the way his worn, black leather jacket fit snugly across his broad shoulders, and the nondescript white t-shirt underneath his jacket, hinting subtly at a no doubt well trained and toned body.

Truly, it had to be a sin to look that good in such casual attire and to be so confident, especially since he was mostly surrounded by people who were dressed in office wear.

It was also of little surprise to her that he'd been named one of NRL's sexiest rugby players, and why plenty of women, particularly blondes (since he had a penchant for them) often flocked to him like bees would to honey.

That meant she was out, of course.

The moment she realised what she had actually thought, Hinata grew disgusted with herself._ Out? _She certainly wasn't harbouring feelings for him, and neither did she wished that he would have been attracted to her! God, even if she were blond, she wouldn't have had a chance at all.

Hinata didn't kid herself - she knew what she looked liked and neither was she sending herself into a downward spiral of despair just because she wasn't blond. A man had to love her for who she was and that was it.

She also most certainly did _not _have a silly little crush on him.

_Is that right?_ A little voice asked snidely. _Just last week, you were gazing at the poster of him down at the Hawk's hall of fame._

Hinata shoved it back into the darkest recesses of her mind. She was simply... admiring his looks. Just like one would a painting or an fine piece of art.

Nothing, however, on the redhead's features or physique implied anything about him being as _elegant_ as a fine piece of art_._ He was too..._raw_ to be considered elegant. Even the word handsome seemed pretty and soft for a man like him.

Those sharp, blunt cheekbones, hard angular jaw and harsh slashings making up his face spoke of something deep, primal and... _animal-like_. Rugged.

Goosebumps rose on her arms.

His crimson hair was worn short and tousled, as though he didn't give a hoot about whether his hair looked particularly charming that day or if it showed the effects of a particular conditioning shampoo.

And that tattoo. Hinata couldn't imagine how that crimson tattoo so famously associated with his name_, not _look foolish and gimmicky on him. On any other man, it would have appeared silly and stupid, but the kanji looked as though it belonged there, on the left corner of his forehead. The tattoo melded with his entire features perfectly. It didn't look odd on him, and in fact, it felt as though it was _a part_ of him.

The redhead wore it like a soldier would his battle scars, reminding him of... _something_. She had a gut feeling it wasn't just for show.

_Had he been jilted? Was it concerning his family?_

Answers she would probably never know.

Neither could he have been called beautiful. That, like the word handsome, was too soft and pretty for him. There was something intensely attractive about Gaara, purely male, masculine and magnetic. The sort of man whom any prim and proper lady would have loved to spend a wanton night with, indulging in her own personal desires.

Hinata's face burned and promptly shoved aside the images it offered her. That last sentence certainly sounded like something out of a historical romance novel. Jeez! She was daydreaming at eight in the_ morning_!

_Nice one, Hinata._

Now, the Hyuuga had never advocated judging people based on looks, and she was experienced enough to know that she didn't have much in common with good-looking people. Neither did they particularly wish to align themselves with her most of the time. Throughout her life, those with looks had proved to her repeatedly that they were usually self centred and were condescending, to sum it up nicely. To be fair, there were several exceptions, as a few names came to mind.

It was a reminder to her that she still did not know much about Gaara at all. Neither could she judge him for the scandal yet - the Hyuuga expected to be tasked with reading up on publicity for Gaara, past and present. She vaguely remembered taking a peek at his folder before, and noted that he'd been engaged in a brawl once, but wasn't convicted of anything serious. If she remembered correctly, he'd been cleared.

Hinata's eyes strayed to his well worn jeans and scruffy black sneakers - they didn't look new, although she _thought_ she glimpsed a branded label on the back pocket of his jeans once. Not that she'd been staring at his butt, much.

He looked as though didn't give a damn if people caught him wearing a garbage sack or an expensive pair of branded jeans. Unwittingly, an odd sort of pride for him wiggled its way into her at the thought - it was people like that who'd dared to defy normal stereotypes that earned her respect. However, that hypothesis of hers could very well have been her own imagination.

Hinata had always been prone to envisioning the best of people even before she knew them well. That sometimes served to her disadvantage and she had to be forced to face reality after awhile. Her father and her cousin called that 'softhearted', but to Hinata it was all about giving a chance to someone. Not judging someone too quickly before knowing their personality.

But if her instincts proved true, she'd glimpsed a little bit of his personality back there. He'd been bold and open - not the typical behaviour of someone who was hiding something, or had done something ghastly - like fathering a child and shirking responsibility.

The Hyuuga almost bumped into Gaara's back when he stopped suddenly, and realised that they'd arrived at the meeting room. Hinata stepped aside from him neatly and mentally cleared her mind of irrelevant things, like how tall he was and how nice his side profile looked-

"Morning!" A voice boomed as Gaara opened the oak door.

Hinata almost jumped.

She recognised that deep, lazy drawl of the primary owner of the Sand Hawks - Seji Jiraiya - without having to see who was it that had spoken. Standing behind Gaara sufficiently blocked out whatever view she had of the room, and it wasn't until the redhead moved in did she manage to see the occupants of the meeting room.

Jiraiya sat at the head of the oval shaped, conference table, looking relaxed. Hinata was surprised - she expected a tensed and angry rather than relaxed and cheerful boss. Then again, Jiraiya always had an easy going demeanour, a very down to earth attitude and he seldom, if not rarely, blew his top. He was the only person Hinata had come across as being able to crack a pervertic joke or make comments of a similar nature that veered more towards humourous than lewd.

How he did it, she supposed that was his own secret.

As always, the team owner's long, bushy white hair was tied at the base of his neck, and his red crimson tattoos running down his cheeks were creased as a result of his smile. Beside him, Yuuhi Kurenai, the head of the small PR team that the Sand Hawks had had in their management, was seated beside him. Her crimson eyes were slightly tense, but the moment she saw Hinata, a welcoming smile broke her austere expression.

"Morning." She said to Jiraiya and Kurenai, while Gaara mimicked her. She glanced at her wristwatch, noted the time, and breathed a sigh of relief. They were early a minute or two.

Hinata took a seat beside Kurenai. The latter was wearing a beautiful red maternity dress, a round bulge beneath the smooth material that would soon grow in the coming months.

Before Hinata could open her mouth and mutter an apology to Kurenai, Jiraiya raised an eyebrow and leaned forward conspiratorially, as though he was uttering the biggest secret he'd ever gotten his hands on.

"So..." He said, looking from Gaara to Hinata, before returning his gaze to Hinata. "Did Gaara give you a lift on his bike?"

Hinata turned scarlet. She felt her neck, and then her cheeks, heating up.

"U-h no..."

Kurenai actually rolled her eyes like a teenager would at a teacher, while Gaara merely leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms.

"For god's sake, Jiraiya." She berated, looking exasperated. "And you had to ask that as your first question. We are facing a scandal here that's going to plague the Sand Hawks, and you ask if Gaara actually _drove_ Hinata here?"

Jiraiya held up his hands, palms facing them in mock surrender. "Ok, ok," He said hurriedly, probably afraid that he would majorly piss off a pregnant Kurenai and somehow break her water bag in the process. "I'm sorry, alright?"

A sigh escaped Kurenai's crimson lips. "Apology accepted. We're still missing two main members under my charge. I think we should just proceed."

"Good idea." The redhead, who had taken a seat opposite Hinata, said curtly.

Nodding, Jiraiya turned to Gaara. "Did the reps hound you when you arrived?"

"Yeah." Gaara said. "The usual questions - did I or did I not have sex with her, is the child mine and... if we had sex in the plane."

"Kinky." Jiraiya commented. Kurenai shot him a dirty look and Hinata merely looked down at her folder.

"I didn't." Gaara retorted, glaring at his boss. "That's my answer to all three questions, but I didn't bother replying them."

Kurenai nodded approvingly as she opened her file.

"I did a scan of the articles this morning - they're all in here. But before that - Jiraiya, you know that this isn't going to be good for the Sand Hawks Junior Programme we just launched a few months ago. There's bound to be worry amongst ah, _particularly concerned_ parents."

"I know that." The white haired man said thoughtfully. "Hang on a sec."

He turned to Gaara.

"When did she proposition you or vice versa?"

Hinata diligently took down the details, her hand flying across a notebook she'd brought along with her.

"_She_ propositioned me." He snapped. "Three months ago. Can't remember which day. But it was during our tour in Iwa. The match against the Iron Jets."

"Ahh."

"Where did she proposition you?"

Gaara's gaze switched from Jiraiya's gaze to hers. Passive jade eyes stared at her coolly. Perhaps a little_ too_ coolly.

"In the hotel. Rock Eye Hotel. The rest of the guys were drinking in the bar because there wasn't a drinking ban going on."

Jiraiya nodded, urging him to continue.

"I went up to my hotel room alone because of a minor injury, and she propositioned me at the elevators. There wasn't anyone else there, if I remember correctly. I rejected her quite a few times - she was pretty persistent. She got a little pissed and left and that was it."

"Did any of your teammates see her leaving the hotel?" Hinata asked.

He thought for a moment, forehead creasing.

"I don't think they remember. They should have seen her if she left by the main entrance."

"So you didn't have sex with her?" Jiraiya's black eyes bore into his.

"No." He said. "I can tell you confidently that the baby isn't mine."

"Great." Jiraiya clasped his hands and turned to Kurenai. "I believe him." He said solemnly.

Kurenai merely stared at him, her crimson eyes sizing him up.

"You don't believe me." He said pointedly, leaning forward slightly, a growl escaping his throat and frustration gnawing at his stomach. His relationship with the PR team in Sand Hawks could be described as less than perfect; so had his past experiences with several PR personnel.

What he'd like about the Sand Hawks management was the fact that they didn't place much emphasis on PR - it was a pretty well known fact that the sport itself utilised PR to a minimal extent and thus, the ratio of PR personnel to employees were quite dismal. Most of the time, they had little to do with the team players itself. Lately Gaara had to admit that several players had been going out of control - alcohol, women and drugs were the most common factors, amongst others.

"What about your notoriety for dating blonds?" She asked.

"That works to my disadvantage." Gaara said, his jade eyes meeting hers. "And I'm well aware of it, Ms Yuuhi. There's no way I can prove to you that I did not sleep with her, but those who know me well should understand that I don't lie, especially where _unborn_ children are concerned." His jade eyes brushed her tummy. "I think you would understand how it feels, if you know that you've got a child somewhere out there that's yours. Do you think I would really sit here and twiddle my thumbs if I was really responsible?" He asked quietly, jade eyes steadfast and strong.

Kurenai's hand went to her belly.

"You might not believe me, but like I said, I did _not_ sleep with her. Not even once." Gaara murmured.

Hinata glanced at her boss carefully - Kurenai's crimson eyes were soft and she was gazing at Gaara solemnly. A rare smile curved her lips.

"If you can understand how it feels for a mother, then I trust Jiraiya's judgment. You are very steadfast, and I needed to hear that to be fully persuaded. Aside from that, Miraimi's a groupie as well as a high school dropout. I think I would have trusted her more if her personality wasn't that... shady."

At that moment the door to the meeting room opened and two sheepish looking women entered. One was blond and the other a brunette. They were dressed immaculately, much more fashionably than Hinata, but that incident at the lift had sealed Gaara's impression of her and sadly, the other two were nowhere near her level.

They apologised and resumed their seats beside Hinata, looking curious.

Gaara saw Kurenai's lips pursing, and knew at once what Kurenai thought of them. The redhead felt their gazes, and stared them down.

Jiraiya proceeded on.

"Its possible that the Junior programme will be affected because of the scandal." He tapped his chin. "Although it might not be as drastic as it seems."

Kurenai nodded. "Yep. We have a current generation that's giving us lots of trouble lately - brawling, sex scandals, verified or not, alcohol problems and what have yous. Its dragging the name of the sport in the mud, and kids under our programme are going to think that that's the right way to do it when one of them has been given a place in the Sand Hawks, even when none of our players have been engaging in foolish activities-"

"Let's not even talk about the Sand Hawks - any team for that matter. The general consensus amongst the spectators and critics are that rugby's name has been sullied thoroughly by men with the brains of 16-year-olds. Parents won't be encouraged to send their kids for our Junior programme. And the sport doesn't deserve this image." Jiraiya pointed out.

"Exactly. We need to do something." Kurenai picked up her pen.

"The question is, _what_?" Jiraiya looked at all of them. "Its not the media that's _entirely_ responsible for painting this particular image and injecting ideas into people. Rugby players are projecting that image, and the media's picking it up. That's what journalists are supposed to do - report the facts to the people, although some of them _do_ engage in yellow journalism. Case in point - you, as their sports celeb."

Gaara didn't flinch from the team owner's unusually serious gaze.

"The Sand Hawks has been alright though." Hinata spoke up hesitantly. "So far, none of our players, with the exception of Gaara, has been accused of such things. All along, our team has a pretty good public image-"

"Unless you counted the one where Gaara got into a brawl." Kurenai cut in. "One year back."

"That was justified." Gaara's fist clenched. "I wasn't convicted of anything."

"Indeed." Kurenai shot back. "But it's already put a dent in your image."

"I don't give a damn about image," Gaara said, heatedly.

"You have to stop thinking of yourself as a one man show." Jiraiya said quietly. "We're a team. You represent all of us, and vice versa."

The clock on the wall ticked by slowly as momentary silence descended upon the group.

"So we'll 'polish' his- I mean _our_, image, through Gaara." Kurenai said afterawhile.

"How?" The white haired man arched an eyebrow and leaned forward.

"We-"

"I'm not sure if I like the sound of that." Gaara said warily. "I don't go for the 'polish your image to a shine' shit."

"Gaara," Jiraiya admonished.

"Apologies." He said curtly. "Why put up a show just for the sake of camera lenses and reporters and people who have an obsessive amount of interest in people's lives? They can shoot and write whatever they want because my conscience is clear. And I'm more than aware of my responsibilities as an athlete and public figure. I was gonna mention a press release or a press conference, and that's that. The people can take it or leave it."

"I understand what you're trying to say." Kurenai pointed her pen at Gaara, but gazed at Jiraiya instead. "We will make sure we get that message across. That press release is one of the things we're going to do."

"_One of_ the things?" The redhead's forehead creased.

"You like to date blonds don't you?" Kurenai said, casually.

Gaara thought he saw the blond PR member sitting up straighter.

He shrugged, and tried to temper his growing anger. God, he was getting furious at a pregnant lady! Yuuhi Kurenai sure didn't behave like one though. He had to admit, albeit rather grudgingly, that he liked how she was - direct and frank with him.

"Well for a change, you could start dating a brunette. Or a dark haired lady."

The other PR member mimicked her blond companion.

Hinata was staring down at her notes, arranging them, not quite meeting his gaze.

"And what good would that be?"

"I'm coming to that." Kurenai took a sip of water. She placed the cup down. "You'll pretend that you're starting to settle down. You know, start thinking of life seriously, having a family, etc. Ok, well maybe not that far. Perhaps just a_ serious_ girlfriend."

Jiraiya chortled. "Can't see that on m'boy, Kurenai."

She ignored him.

"They might see it as a publicity stunt." It was Hinata. She fiddled with her pen. "It might trigger people to think that he has something to hide when in fact, he doesn't."

"It could go down that way." Kurenai agreed. "But what we're trying to project is a steady, responsible image for Gaara."

"I thought the press release itself was great enough." Gaara said. "Ms Yuuhi," He said politely. "I _don't need_ a publicity stunt."

Kurenai glowered at him, and the two latecomers watched them with rapt attention.

"Well," Hinata started again, hesitantly. "I think Gaara should continue uh...d-dating blonds. You know, to show that he's done nothing wrong. Meanwhile, we should also find out whose baby is it that Miraimi's carrying and subtly bring it to light."

That, Gaara had to admit, was a little good and well justified, but risky too.

"Hmm.." Kurenai drummed her fingers on the table. "I like-"

"Aha!" Jiraiya shouted. It was Gaara's turn to roll his eyes.

"What?" Kurenai grumbled in an uncharacteristic manner.

"He will continue to date blonds, and then bam! He meets this brunette and he decides to date her. And then, we'll reveal it as the fact that she was his childhood friend, and she'll go onto say how confident she is of him, blah blah, blah." He snapped his fingers. "Then, we find out whose the real father of the baby, bring it to the reps, and off goes your girlfriend."

"That's lousy. No publicity stunts." Gaara growled. "And I mean it."

"Let's just scrap the entire idea." Kurenai said lethargically. "We're not plotmakers of a novel. I agree with Gaara - let's just go ahead with the press release, find out why Miraimi sabotaged him-"

"She's jealous." Jiraiya threw in. "Or probably crazy. We have to find out more though."

"Ok, that -"

"And find out whose baby she's carrying." Gaara finished.

"Done." Jiraiya said, sitting back, lacing his fingers together over his abdomen.

"Not quite." Kurenai said primly. "I need Gaara to tell us what he might want to say in his press release. Hinata will you take-"

She broke off suddenly and gazed at Hinata before looking in the middle of the table, her mind working furiously.

"My god." Jiraiya said after a second or two, his eyes growing wide. "Did her waterbag break?"

Everone glanced down at Kurenai's legs, with the exception of Gaara.

_Hinata, _Kurenai realised. Hinata was the perfect choice. If Hinata could pose as Gaara's current girlfriend, then it would be a double bonus - her role could fend off the accusations (although its effectiveness might not be that strong) and she could advise Gaara along the way if Gaara wanted justice done by swinging his fists, or if crazy groupies wanted to accuse him of rape. Hinata was steadfast and reliable as a granite rock. Kurenai had been particularly impressed with her abilities, perceptiveness and flexibility, and she was sure the Hyuuga could deliver. She was incredibly organised and task focused - there was no way she could fail on this. Unlike the other two members, she was carefully indifferent to gossip and personal matters, often providing creative and careful thought through ideas to her. Plus, Hinata would report to her directly.

She grinned at Jiraiya.

"Uh, okay." The latter said warily. "Care to tell us what's on your mind?"

Hinata looked at her, concerned, while Gaara's jade eyes narrowed suspiciously.

And so she told them.

Hinata blushed, but said nothing. She looked thoughtful.

"Hm..." Jiraiya scractched his chin. "That's pretty good. We'll have someone to help you out along the way." He nodded at Gaara.

"A word with you." Gaara stared at him. "Outside."

"But-" Kurenai started, looking disappointed.

"Just a minute." Gaara said, his jade eyes not unkind, merely firm. "We'll be back."

The two men closed the door behind them, and Jiraiya motioned for Gaara to join him in the adjacent meeting room which was fortunately, empty.

"Okay, what is it?" Jiraiya's gaze turned serious, his humourous attitude dissipating fast.

"I told you - I don't do publicity stunts." Gaara bit out, jade eyes hard and cold.

Jiraiya jammed his hands into his sports jacket and wandered over to the window that bordered the wall.

"You know...Eighty percent of those kids under the Sand Hawks Junior programme are the ones who might become the Hawks' very own rugby players. They're underprivileged, and they were once like you."

Gaara didn't answer him.

Jiraiya had said they were similar to him, but he knew very well where their differences lay.

He'd gone through the criterion for the Junior programme when Jiraiya needed the players' survey on it. It aimed to encourage underprivileged kids with a strong passion for rugby. Most of them had financial woes and broken families, but unlike him, none were noted to be conceived illegitimately, and none suffered the knowledge of being an unwanted son throughout his entire childhood.

They, unlike him, didn't have to tolerate visits from snobby, well dressed people who warned them not to say a word about his mother being a certain businessman's mistress, and that following which, he would covertly provide for his illegitimate son and mistress without anyone's knowledge so as not to ruin the happy family image he'd had. Gaara later learnt to put a name to these people who earned their income this way and thus, the name PR left a pretty bitter taste in his mouth. It was unfair, he knew, to classify everyone working in PR as such. Case in point, Ms Hyuuga Hinata.

But just as someone would say being a professional athlete wasn't the most useful job in the world compared to a doctor, he still harbored a grudge he couldn't rid himself of, against people who merely wanted to put on a show, to keep superficial surfaces nice and shiny. He couldn't see the meaning in it.

"What Ms Yuuhi was trying to say awhile ago is that this little scandal of yours represents something far greater that's plaguing rugby and we know it. Its rugby itself that's being affected from all these bullshit." Jiraiya turned to gaze at him solemnly.

"Its the whole damn thing. The reputation, the image, whoever's associated with it, in it, who's playing it. Grown men who think they've got a right to muck around just because they play rugby are ruining the entire aim of the game. When I played rugby professionally, the people in charge didn't tolerate all this BS. We were scared as hell of our team manager and coach. But look at this generation now - remember last year's sex assault scandal regarding the Rock Lazers? Yeah, well for the sake of the kids who will most probably inherit a sport that carries a lewd and barbaric image and supposedly gives them a right to live dangerously, do what Ms Yuuhi says. Incredible as her schemes may be, it is only _temporary_. Its for a period of time until this issue dies down." The white haired man clasped a strong hand on his shoulder as he approached him, eyes warm and trusting. "You never know, because this little effort of yours can actually create a huge effect on a child's mind. Plenty of kids worship you, Gaara. Boys tune in every night when there's a match to watch you and your teammates. You can 'protect' them, do you know that?" Jiraiya signalled the apostrophes.

A grin broke out on his face, suddenly making Jiraiya look younger than his 54 years.

"As cheesy as it may be, show these kids that you play _because_ of the sport itself, you play_ because_ when you slam yourself against someone else, when you score a try, you_know_ you've accomplished something after practicing it for hours and hours. Show them that when you run on the field, you truly know what it takes to be a _professional_ rugby player, who doesn't have to do stupid things like getting drunk to earn fame. But I'm thinking that won't be difficult, because I can clearly see you playing it for passion, because you _love_ it. Not for fame nor wealth. _And_ that's also why fame and wealth keep on chasing after you, because you _don't_ do it with that aim in mind. God, its a little like reverse psychology. Hey do you get what I'm saying? Are you even_ listening_?"

He clasped both Gaara's shoulders in his hands.

"Yeah. You just dumped a shitload of words into my brain." Gaara murmured.

Jiraiya, however, thought he saw the familiar, demonic gleam of steel and stubbornness in the redhead's eyes, the exact expression the fly-half had whenever he was aiming for a kick or a try, or when an opponent had scored.

And the white haired man instinctively knew at once that he himself had scored a bullseye.

"Besides, don't you think Ms Hyuuga is pretty...uh, whatdoyoucallit - _cute_ eh? I'd rather assign her to you than the other two slackers."

Gaara tilted his head back and gazed heavenward. It was incredible how he'd had to resort to publicity stunts, something he didn't believe in, just to supposedly _clean_ the image of the one thing in his life that had allowed him to get away from his frustration, to what had had happened years ago with his parents - rugby.

"Let's just get this over and done with."

"What?"

"You'd better tell Ms Yuuhi Kurenai this fast, or I just might eat my words."

"I did it." Jiraiya said gleefully. "I did it!"

The redhead ignored him and wrenched the door opened. When they entered the room again, everyone looked up at them expectantly.

"What-" Kurenai asked, her eyes going from Jiraiya, to Gaara.

The team owner interrupted her and grinned broadly, thumping Gaara on the back.

"He's agreed to do it!"


	2. Two

**A/N:** =D Thank you so very much for your thoughtful and detailed reviews and especially for waiting!

*_TooBlueForYou_ identified a mistake in this chapter - I messed up the paragraphing at the very last part (Temari/Kankurou intro) - must have been really careless. But its all corrected now! :P Many thanks to _TooBlueForYou _for that! :D

**Disclaimer: **Naruto and all characters are created by Masashi Kishimoto.

* * *

><p><em>2.<em>

"Hold on a second." Hinata said, sitting up straight in her seat.

She had to give voice to her feelings. To save herself first and foremost, before committing to something this...crazy. Gaara had agreed, but she...she didn't know if she felt comfortable with this.

Plus she had to also save this 'plan' before it was torn to shreds by the seasoned gossip reporters of Hello! or the other various gossipy magazines often splashed with pictures and juicy headlines. They certainly knew a publicity stunt when they saw one, and the consequence of this one was irreversible - the people would think Gaara really had something to hide.

"I- I... have something to s-say."

Both men turned to her.

Jiraiya's questioning gaze switched from Hinata to Kurenai and back to Hinata again.

Kurenai waved a tissue at him. "Take a seat. We've discussed this very carefully while both of you were out, and my team generally agrees with- what Hinata herself has pointed out and suggested." The dark haired woman glanced at said person and nodded. "Go ahead, Hinata."

The Hyuuga cleared her throat.

_Calmly does it now, Hinata._

"W-we need to be a little clear on one thing," Hinata said tentatively, leaning on her elbows and fidgeting with her pen. "We should be careful when we say that we want someone to _pose_ as Gaara's girlfriend. Do we mean to _project_ such an _image_ or to set in stone the fact that Gaara has a girlfriend?"

Jiraiya's white eyebrows rose thoughtfully while Kurenai nodded and proceeded to blow into a tissue. Hinata licked her lips and nodded slowly, looking expectantly at the men.

"If we were to _hint_ that he is romantically involved, people will naturally pick it up and start to talk amongst themselves. At the same time, if it turns out that someone has found out that his supposed girlfriend is probably a member of the Sand Hawk's PR team, we are _not_ guilty of a publicity stunt because Gaara would not have uttered a word about having a girlfriend at all - it would have been mere speculation on gossip mongers' part. And so, _if_ we want to do this, we need to do this carefully. I-"

Darn. She actually couldn't bring herself to say that she couldn't do this. She couldn't go right out and say. That was the problem. She was always so obliging.

"That's it."

She stopped, took a deep but inconspicuous breath through her nose, and glanced uncertainly at the man who called the shots. Her stomach churned violently and her palms were cold and clammy against the other.

So she couldn't outright say she didn't want to do this. But she had to save herself from this frightening prospect. Figuring that little loophole out and tweaking it was enough to save her skin. It might not appear to make much of a difference, but at least she need not have to do some serious acting with her very good looking co-actor. It would be so very embarrassing to pose as Sabaku Gaara's girlfriend. Maybe someone like her colleague, who was blond and gorgeous could, but not her.

Hinata desired control and stability in her life, not chaos, not something unpredictable like this. She wanted a boring, stable life - busy she could handle, but not..._this._

And sometimes, she absolutely hated herself. For the life of her, but she just couldn't outright say _'No, I can't do it, because I'm easily embarrassed, and I'm not appropriate for Gaara.'_

It was like... matching Mickey with Daisy Duck or something, instead of Minnie.

Not that Gaara was Mickey though. Far from that. And neither was she Daisy Duck.

Kurenai shot Jiraiya an expectant look.

"Shrewd." Jiraiya said, rubbing his chin and gazing at her. "Very delicate thinking there, Ms Hyuuga, covering our loopholes up like that. Thank goodness we have you in our team here."

Hinata managed a tiny smile.

_Don't say that, don't say that!_ She mentally chanted. The dark haired woman could almost feel the jealousy radiating off her fellow colleagues with the exception of Kurenai. It was possible she was being over-sensitive, but she knew a jealous colleague when she saw one and felt one. Praise given to her privately was fine, because no one could be jealous, but Hinata had learnt that sometimes, being given positive comments in front of certain people were bound to get you into conflict and unwanted jealousy. At times like this, she sorely wished she hadn't been present.

"It's just a matter of looking closer-"

"Indeed." Jiraiya nodded. "But I think not many people would have been so...sensitive to such details." He smiled warmly. That probably upped Araki and Saeki's (her two colleagues) jealousy meter up a few notches. Really, she didn't like to be competitive and she most certainly didn't want anyone harbouring any hatred against her.

"Gaara. Any _violent _objections?"

His slow, deep voice was steady and unwavering. Firm, unlike hers.

"I always keep my word, Jiraiya."

"Yes. You do." He gazed at him and bobbed his head in a way Hinata would say was almost fatherly. She drew her eyes away from Jiraiya, only to meet intense jade ones boring into hers. They were still directed toward her. She felt as though she'd been doing a handstand, what with all the blood rushing to her cheeks and brain.

"Kurenai? I'm putting Ms Hyuuga in charge of Gaara. Alright?"

Jiraiya glanced at Kurenai and then Hinata.

"Uh-huh."

Hinata could only nod mutely.

"You'll oversee his affairs from now till this is settled. I'll be entrusting you with this matter then. Stick to what you proposed a few seconds ago, schedule for a release of a press statement as when Gaara wishes and when _you_ think is suitable. I want to know more about Miraimi Yui and her claims too. If you can prove false her allegations with solid evidence, that's even better."

"About what I proposed earlier-"

"You are more than capable. You've handled Inuzuka and Akimichi, haven't you?"

_Say it! This is your chance!_

"Yes, but I-"

It was at the tip of her tongue, ready to be thrown out: _But I don't think I __can do it. No one will believe it!_

Everyone waited expectantly for her to continue. "But it wouldn't... be very convincing, would it?" She managed in a rush, embarrassed. To make matters worse, she could feel Gaara's intense gaze on her again. Her face burned.

"I have confidence in you." Jiraiya said solemnly. "Weren't you in charge of Inuzuka, Akimichi and Uzumaki before?"

"Yes..."

"So do I have confidence in you," Kurenai said, her voice nasal yet firm.

Hinata mentally threw herself off an imaginary hundred storeyed building. The prospect of having to work with_ Gaara_ so closely wreaked havoc on her nerves. Kiba and Naruto were always so jokey, and nice. When she was working with them, she had a sense that they were treating her like a porcelain doll, heeding her every advice and instruction, as though the two huge players were afraid she would shatter into tiny pieces. Chouji was serious and easy to work with, giving his input here and there. He was really, a very nice and gentle man at heart.

All three, unlike Gaara, were not at all mysterious nor...intense. Heck, she didn't have to pretend to be either one's girlfriend!

The moment his name appeared on someone else's lips, most of the time, it was either about his talent or his brushes with the law and slightly surly temper. Definitely no drugs, alcoholic, or plain foolish man-child behaviour, but there was definitely a bad boy aura about him. True, she did not know him very well, and to be fair, she would have to hold her judgment...but doubts and fears still surfaced.

To put it delicately, he wasn't very... what was the word? - _comfortable_ working with the PR dept, that much she knew, and yet his presence here told her that he did care, for his reputation, the team he belonged in, despite saying otherwise.

Could she get him to work with her? There were certain people who thought she was stupid and meek and too studious and geeky. Not good enough. Not attractive, not smart enough to pull this off.

Desperately, she fought the panic welling up in her chest, the exact same kind of internal struggle she'd faced since young.

_Whoa, whoa, easy._

Trying to become Gaara's current arm candy was not going to be easy, and he probably couldn't wait for the entire thing to be over. The mere thought of him reacting that way eroded her self confidence even further. Plus, hadn't he said that he _'didn't give a damn about image?_' He was already so very reluctant with this. Facing such a man like him everyday would cause her to combust by the time this was over, and Kurenai would probably have to pick up little bits and pieces of her while Gaara whisked another blond woman in his private jet to the Maldives or some romantic little island for a little getaway.

In order for _her_ to do this well, she had to do what she'd been doing her whole life - constantly erase her insecurities all over again, to prove people wrong (perhaps him too) and mainly, to prove to herself that she was worthy of recognition and respect. Would she pass up this opportunity?

Gaara was a mountain to climb - rugged, rough and rocky terrain, difficult, but possible. If she focused, concentrated, put her best and found the right angle. And if she er, managed to _conquer_ him, pull off everything splendidly and vindicate Gaara, it would be such an accomplishment to her.

And what would her family say about that?

This was the perfect moment, even if no family member of hers had ever asked for her to prove herself.

She wanted to, though.

Hinata swallowed, her throat dry.

"I know you're reluctant to do this." Kurenai said softly, out of earshot of the rest of the occupants in the room. "But you've been brilliant with the rest of the rugby players, and I have so much faith in you."

Kurenai might have faith, but the truth was, Hinata found herself breaking out in a sweat at the mere thought. Yeah, she'd been in worst situations before, when she would almost faint at the thought of having to face a gaggle of reporters and important clients. But this was different. This would not be over in a few minutes.

_Remember about him being the mountain. Don't be afraid of him. Don't think about what you can or can not do. __Show him what you're made of._

She pulled in a deep breath - the gathering of courage just before that final leap into oblivion.

"A-alright."

* * *

><p>"You've got a<em> meeting<em> with _your_ publicist? Publicist?"

It didn't occur to Gaara that Inuzuka Kiba, the tall, handsome winger of the Sand Hawks, would be so utterly surprised to hear that he'd been assigned a publicist in order to save him from the false accusations of a woman.

Huh. Just because he tended to avoid hiring publicists at all costs didn't mean he shouldn't have one in times like these.

"Yeah." He said grudgingly, bending down to pull up his black knee length socks. He could feel the warm sun beating down on him through his heated black jersey as he straightened up and surveyed the green field that stretched before them. It was littered with men clad in black jerseys, some standing, some still in the midst of their warm-up exercises.

"You got a problem with that?" Gaara asked without heat, a smirk gracing his lips. He took in a deep breath, relishing in the crisp, fresh air.

"You never, ever _wanted_ one." Kiba planted his hands on his hips and turned his face to the blinding sun. The darkhaired player squinted his eyes before turning to him. A year younger than Gaara, the Inuzuka was renowned for his insane speed on the field as winger and most of all, for making it to the list of the top 5 try scorers this year.

"I still don't want one."

Although he'd said that aloud, part of Gaara admitted that he did want a certain PR publicist - Hyuuga Hinata.

Not in the sort of carnal way. Mainly primarily to have a chance to..._interact_ with her.

Why? She surprised him at every turn - first, with her firmness in promising not to reveal anything to that nosy colleague, her sharpness and alertness in pointing out and clarifying certain things to save herself from Kurenai's suggestion - it was such a subtle and shrewd move, so simple yet meaningful, he almost hadn't caught it, till the old man had said 'shrewd'. It seemed he'd been judging the proverbial book by the cover that morning. He had believed she would accepted Kurenai's proposal without any objections, the meek little lamb she appeared to be, even perhaps with glee.

But he'd been wrong, because from the way she spoke, she wasn't very keen on taking him up. He'd sworn she looked as though she had been having this internal war inside her head, struggling to decide if she should agree to that slightly crazed plan.

He thought he understood why she wasn't leaping for joy at the prospect.

One. From her black rimmed glasses to the modest blouse and skirt she wore right down to the attentive way she noted down things and arranged her pens, Hinata projected a buttoned up and serious image, a stark contrast to the shallow women who only bothered about make-up and the fastest way to get him into their beds. He imagined she looked like the sort of woman who detailed each day's events in an organiser, arrived punctually for work every day, was disinterested in gossip, and trembled at the very thought of having to do something spontaneous.

Detailed, organised and specific and indifferent to his personal life. Maybe not totally indifferent, but he guessed she would be someone who kept her promises. Precisely what he would want if he had to choose anybody to represent him or meddle in his affairs.

Two. Gaara also knew he wasn't superbly ugly nor devastatingly handsome, and thought the NRL Sexiest Rugby Player of the Year thing was _absolute bullshit._ It had been the source of his ire, especially when his teammates started teasing him about it, until several of them were nominated. He, however, knew all that title crap might have played a part in her hesitating, as well as the fact that he had a different woman on his arm most of the time he was required to make an appearance. If he was correct about number one, then his behaviour of his out in the limelight had... turned her away.

Or had it been hesitance then? He saw the way she was fiddling with that pen, the uncertainty in her white eyes and her body language. Perhaps she was wary, and he'd acknowledged that that trait did save his skin more than once - she had a right to be wary. But what, or who, was she wary about?

...Was it him then?

_No surprises there_, he thought dryly, although it wasn't a pleasant thought and he would rather she didn't think of him that wa-

_Since when did you care what someone from the PR team thinks about you?_

He paused in the midst of adjusting the flap of his black and white Nikes, analysing his train of thought.

_Yeah, when?_

It was rare for him to want a person _not_ to judge him based on what they read from newspaper reports/magazines (especially tabloid ones, those bloody reporters) For more than a decade ever since the harsh glare of the spotlight had been directed at him when he first stepped on the field, he'd been mocking silently at those who'd assumed they knew him without ever speaking to him, who judged him too quickly. He didn't feel the need to correct them at all, particularly people he didn't know well. They weren't in the position to dictate what was wrong and what was right of him.

Neither did he want to assume what someone was like and stereotype them, but there was very fine line between desiring certain qualities and _living _by these qualities. Sadly, Gaara suspected he'd been judging the proverbial book by the cover too much that morning. She wasn't all spineless, and stuffy - neither was she one of those snobby, polished and superficial PR personnel.

She was very perceptive and intelligent, he'd give her that. Qualities he admired and appreciated in his teammates and the people in his life.

Was that why he was bothered about her views of him?

"-about that blond woman isn't it?" Kiba's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. He glanced at the Inuzuka as the duo started a slow jog toward where their coach, Baki, was. "That was crap. You brushed Miraimi Yui away so harshly that other time, she's definitely lying. I hope you got Hinata as your-"

"_Inuzuka! Sabaku_!" Baki roared.

"WE'RE COMING!" Kiba yelled, not out of anger, but mainly because the distance between the two players and their tall, bald and heavyset coach was great.

"Tell me more about her later." Gaara clapped Kiba's shoulder and started making his way to the

"Sure." Kiba said at once. It was a second or so before realisation dawned in the Inuzuka's dark eyes. "Wait a minute. You've got her didn't you? You got Hinata?"

"Is that a good or bad thing?"

Kiba's eyes widened. "Whaddya mean _good or bad_? She's one of the _best!_ Cream of the crop and all. You're lucky you didn't get...what'shername? Ah, nevermind. Just be thankful you have her. With such false accusations, Hinata'll make it right for you."

He didn't doubt what Kiba had said, because he suspected she would too. He'd thought so too. Gaara understood Kurenai's reason for selecting her. She spoke confidently at the right moments, but after that, she seemed to retract and close, like an edelweiss flower would if someone touched it.

If she was so capable, why did she seem so worried about being his publicist? He had several possible answers - some of which ranked high on his list: _he_ was the main primary reason and her lack of confidence, judging from the way she expressed her doubts about herself.

_"But it wouldn't be very convincing...would it?"_

He never thought he would hear someone actually voice out his/her doubts about herself, much less in front of an audience.

That was odd, but he admitted that it wasn't easy to do such a thing.

Gaara looked forward to hearing Kiba's opinion of her and from the other guys she'd worked with before. He also wanted very badly to fast forward to the meeting he'd suggested with Hinata at half past seven that evening. One, to work on the Miraimi incident, and two, partly because he wanted to confirm the above.

It was crazy to have such an urge to know what made Hyuuga Hinata tick - one moment she was quietly confident, and then uncertain yet so sure of what she wanted to say. It should have made him thought her as a fickle woman with, but as far as he could tell after getting to know her within such a short span of time, she was not.

The last he saw her was shortly after the meeting to give her the main elements he wanted in his press statement and she'd promised him that it would be out by lunch time that day. She spoke eloquently when they discussed briefly about his statement, nodding and listening attentively to his words while penning it down.

Something was_ holding_ her back. Something was restraining that confidence within her, preventing it from gushing out, full blast. The way he saw it now, it was leaking out in sporadic moments, only when she was eager to communicate something of vital information. One reason might have been because she was modest, but it was far from it, he guessed.

Tilting his head back, he let out a breath. Kiba glanced at him for a moment.

He'd never spent so much time pondering over one woman before - probably it was because he was being wary and rigid, like he always was, and more so ever since the accusations from Miraimi. And the other was because the women who'd traipsed past him did not require anything more than hands and mouth to figure them out.

But now was not the time for such matters. His mindset had to be altered for now, just like he always did whenever he had to focus on playing rugby - tuned off and indifferent to troubles, ready for the physical extremity of their team training session. In fact, Gaara always welcomed it. He needed to expend his energy in doing something, to work out his frustration, and most of all, to focus on what needed to be strengthened and improved on the field, in the game.

For approximately eight hours, there would be no Miraimi Yui, no unborn child, no Hyuuga Hinata.

Just him, the ball, the field, the sun.

"_Oi _Gaara! MOVE YOUR ASS!"

And occasionally, a very loud blond.

* * *

><p><em>Westport, Suna<em>

Furyoku Temari buckled her seat belt and took in a deep breath through her parted mouth as she watched other fellow First Class passengers stowed away their hand luggages and took to their seats amidst the welcoming murmurs of the cabin crew stationed thoughout the plane.

Leaning back against the head rest, she watched as a dark haired man took his seat across the aisle and retrieved a newspaper from his suitcase.

"Ms Furyoku." A slender stewardess materialised beside her seat, one hand on her headrest, a solemn smile on her lips. She identified herself as the Chief Stewardess and uttered the same words she had heard over the past two days: "The airline conveys our condolences to the passing away of Mr Furyoku Sabashi." She murmured in a low tone, inclining her head. "We are deeply sorry for the loss."

"Thank you." Temari said quietly, a small smile on her lips.

The stewardess nodded and stepped away.

Glancing across the aisle yet again, she watched as her younger brother braced his head against his thumb and index finger and inspected an article carefully, as though he was studying an extremely difficult piece of document he couldn't quite comprehend.

"Kankurou." She half whispered across the aisle, after a woman carrying a gurgling baby in her arms walked past her.

Kankurou turned abruptly to stare at her, as though roused from a daze. Wordlessly, Temari stretched her hand out, gesturing for him to pass her the newspaper in his hands. He relented, digging his fingers through his hair.

"I can't believe it." He raised his eyebrows and shook his head while throwing up his hands. "After all these years, and we never_ knew_ at all-"

Temari shook her head slightly, a warning look in her eyes as more passengers started entering the cabin. She wouldn't risk anyone getting a hold of such news and leaking it. Kankurou braced his head against his knuckles.

"So he doesn't know us." Her younger brother muttered, after yet another stream of passengers passed.

Temari shook her head slowly, looking down at the newspaper in her lap. "I don't think so. He might not have known our father at all, because Dad didn't reveal himself to...him."

There was a silence here, as though both of them knew that it would have been a negative point against their father.

"What do you think of the article?"

"You asked me that a million times already, Kankurou. I said it _might_ be true."

"Um-hm. Given his reputation with the ladies, its possble. But Miraimi Yui doesn't seem to be a particularly strait laced woman either. It says here that she's a groupie."

"Its scandalous just because he's well known and she's a groupie." Temari reasoned. "Plus, he's not married, which means he didn't cheat on anyone. And we don't even know if he fathered the child or not."

"Do you think he did?"

"I'll withold my judgment till there is evidence."

"Tem? I don't mean to dash your hopes and speak ill of him but this dude looks like one of those people who drives a Lambo, swaggers around in a pair of Oakley shades and holds nightly parties in his villa. It means he could very well have-"

"You have Oakley shades and you drive an Audi."

Kankurou ignored her retort. "I'm just pointing out the obvious."

"And so am I."

"Ah...someone's protective now?"

"I'm just trying to be positive here." She snapped. Temari took in a deep breath and touched her forehead with her hand. "I'm sorry. I'm just-"

"I know." Kankurou said sombrely, cutting her off quickly. "I know. You don't have to apologise."

She looked down and gazed at the picture of the crimson haired Sabaku Gaara, one of the world's most famous rugby player, highest paid athlete, the surly captain of the Sand Hawks and now... her half-brother.

"So we're really gonna walk up to him and say, 'Heyy, bro, it's us! Your long lost siblings!' Just like that? Like that?" Kankurou might have sounded casual and incredulous, but Temari detected a different inflection when he said the word 'bro'. He said it like it tasted foreign and strange on his did a quick scan around her - no one looked as though they were particularly interested in their conversation. And a baby had started wailing loudly somewhere behind them, which pretty much provided a good cover-up.

"Of course not." She said indignantly. "We'll...do it_ properly_."

Kankurou bit the insides of his cheek. "This is nuts," He muttered. "_Sabaku Gaara_...my god. Can you imagine it? It's incredible. But- but wow." He thumped the back of his head against the head rest a few times. She didn't know if her brother simply didn't like the idea of having Gaara as his brother, or delighted in knowing that one of his favourite sports athletes was actually his younger brother. He didn't want to admit it, but long before her father had confessed his affair, Kankurou had always tuned in to watch the games Gaara played in and discussed it enthusiastically with his friends.

Perhaps he had mixed feelings. So did Temari - she didn't know what to make of it, wasn't sure what was the proper way to react, and at the same time, was cautious of how Gaara would react.

It felt extremely strange...someone in this world who was actually a part of their family all along, and they'd never known it once. It could have made hers, as well as Kankurou's life far more different. A person, whom they often saw on TV, on newspapers, was actually their half-brother. A little like a group of scientists discovering something, only to realise that the law of physics they'd always adhered to had been wrong...or something similar. The point was, normalcy was out of her reach, now that things were shifting and changing so quickly.

It was her father's time to go, she admitted, for he had been suffering for a long time coming - all Temari wished for was that he would go peacefully, and she thought he did so, because her father took pain in his stride and bore with it until the end.

The blond returned her gaze to the newspaper and tried to put herself in Gaara's shoes. She sucked in her breath and shook her head, wishing she didn't have to be the one to tell that to him, wishing that he didn't have to face them.

He wasn't a money grubbing fellow who was unemployed and leapt at the chance to be acknowledged as the son of a wealthy businessman: this was important, because it could put them at a disadvantage. In contrast, Gaara had made a name for himself, had the ability to support himself financially and most importantly, he was (and still is) her half-brother. She had to let him know that, she had to see him and to talk to him.

Gaara was indeed her biological half-brother, because they definitely shared the same father; it been proven in black and white and not merely assumed. Furyoku Sabashi was like that - he wanted to be sure of everything, and he was a stickler for accuracy. The very same one who'd passed away from lung cancer recently, who had apparently, been keeping this under wraps for such a long, long time. So well-kept was it, that neither siblings had noticed anything amiss.

Did he resent the fact that his father had never acknowledged him? Would he? Would he even believe that he had half-siblings? What about accepting them?

The last question, if posed to her, was ultimately a yes. There was no reason not to, afterall.

The seat belt lights came on, prompting a communal clicking sound of belts being buckled while the captain addressed them over the system. Temari raised her eyes and met Kankurou's dark ones.

"Properly." He mouthed quietly. "How?"

_It wasn't__ the how,_ Temari thought as she folded the newspaper and tucked it into the seat in front of her. She had an idea how, but it was the_ after _part that she was sorely worried about.

* * *

><p><em>Furyoku<em> - pertaining to the power of wind.


	3. Three

**A/N**: I figured I should have put this up earlier in chapter one or something, but here goes anyway:

I am fully aware there might be some inaccuracy about rugby teams, the PR industry, and the way both industries work in this fanfic, but I'm altering certain facts a little to fit the story, so do bear with me if you notice a few errors/irregularities with reality here and there. _Eg._ I don't think rugby teams are privately owned by people/organizations, the way the Sand Hawks is owned by Jiraiya in _Arm Candy_. However, I won't make things utterly unbelievable, that I can assure you. To clarify, I'm not a rugby player nor a member of the PR industry but I respect the work, talents and abilities of these professions. Please do pardon me if I make certain mistakes about either occupations and their related areas and inadvertently offend you in the process. :) FYI, no one has accused me of anything yet and that's a HUGE relief to me. 8)

Enjoy reading!

**Disclaimer**: Naruto and all characters are created by Masashi Kishimoto. No profits whatsoever are made from this fanfiction in anyway.

* * *

><p><em>3<em>.

"She's _godlike_."

"Incredible."

"Hardworking."

"Dives into her work like the way you dive for the ball, even though its beneath someone else's crotch."

"Not to mention highly efficient."

"Make that fabulously efficient. She set out my schedule in like - what? 5 minutes?"

"That's impossible, Inuzuka." Gaara pushed aside his empty plate as Kiba shovelled the last spoonful of rice into his mouth, his fork poised over the remaining food piled on his plate.

"Close enough." Kiba grinned, creasing the two crimson tattoos on his cheeks. The very first time Gaara had been introduced to him, he thought they looked fairly tribal; inverted and triangular, the tattoos were also slightly faded. It was also a well-known fact that these tattoos were a distinctive feature of the Inuzuka family - most of the time Kiba played, Gaara could spot a few dark haired Inuzukas with the exact same tattoos somewhere in the crowd.

Most of the men in his team had odd tattoos, himself included, so he wasn't one to say anything either. However, it could prove pretty intimidating to an outsider when the Inuzuka family made their stand in the stadium and hollered loudly to cheer Kiba on, or booed boisterously at the opponents.

"Wait - who the heck are you guys talking about again?"

Uzumaki-Namikaze Naruto, son of the legendary Namikaze Minato who once played the position of fullback for the FireBlades, might have been listening in on their conversation for the past five minutes, but he didn't look as though he knew what was going on. Blond haired and blue-eyed with distinctly boyish features, Naruto ran like the devil himself on the field and was spectacular as the inside-centre for the team, but he could be pretty clueless when it came to certain things. That was not to say Naruto had taken too many hits to the head and was a dumb jock. There was a time to be sensible and serious, and Naruto definitely knew when to quit joking and listen. Numerous critics had sworn he carried the traits of his father with him despite the different positions they played; tenacity, perseverance and just the right amount of recklessness and smart thinking. He could have passed off as the proverbial bad boy...that is, until he opened his mouth or smiled.

"Hyuuga Hinata, Hyuuga Hinata." Akimichi Chouji said around a mouthful of chicken. The bulky and muscular prop, who weighed roughly 180 kilograms, was surprisingly laid-back in nature. His physicality made him possibly one of the largest, more powerful players on the team. Gaara would have never called him obese or overweight, and although what Chouji ate in a day could feed an army, the man had more muscles than fat in his body. His abilities on the field were never doubted by commentators at all, which proved that the energy from the food had indeed, been put into good use. Unlike the majority of the men, Chouji sported a slightly long haircut - rusty red-brown hair almost reached his shoulders - different, compared to the short, fuss free crop most players preferred.

"Jesus, I didn't kick your head that hard at practice!" Kiba commented while leaning forward to look at Naruto.

"The next time I get you, it'll be in your nuts." The blond growled. Turning to Gaara, who was seated beside him, Naruto adopted a more serious attitude. "So. She's your publicist?"

Gaara nodded.

"Speaking of publicists," Naruto said slowly, scratching the corner of his mouth. "I've been thinking-"

"You've been_ thinking_?" Kiba popped in again.

"_Sonovagun_!"

It took a flying broccoli and a few curses from Kiba before Naruto resumed talking, this time in a lower tone and to Gaara specifically.

"We were there when Miraimi Yui approached you. It would definitely help if we issued a joint statement from the rest of the-"

"I'm not," Gaara said, jade eyes meeting deep blue orbs belonging to one of his closest friends. "Afraid. Because I haven't done as she said. I did not sleep with her, and neither am I responsible for anything. You believe me on that?" He gripped Naruto's shoulder.

"Without a doubt, man." Naruto said sincerely. "Without a doubt."

"Then don't do anything to trouble yourself. I want to get to this on my own."

"But," Naruto, tilted back his head, raising his eyebrows and glancing at him out of the corner of his eyes. "If I get mobbed by reps, I sure as hell am going to say something about it. As a spectator and as your _friend_," Naruto emphasised, "I have rights to speak up for you."

"Just don't mess up my publicist's plans."

The moment the words were out of his mouth, Gaara acknowledged grudgingly that he'd accepted what Kurenai or Hinata had in store for him. His tolerance however, was limited, and he would make sure Hinata got that message - if she proposed to navigate him through the murky waters of this scandal by making him out to be some, nice, shiny poster boy (which he was not) and to deal with this by just sitting on his ass and denying all claims, he'd be damned. He would have to put his foot down or return the delicate looking Ms Hyuuga to Jiraiya and Ms Yuuhi if she didn't cooperate.

If he had his way, he would get Miraimi Yui out from her hiding hole, demand why she was accusing him of such things, and then force her onto a DNA test which would show in solid black and white documents that he was not the goddamned father of her baby. Either that, or get the bastard who slept with her to come forward and show the world what a sorry piece of ass he was.

Although he'd heard enough of the compliments given to her and had acknowledged that Hinata was anything but one of the quintessential polished PR personnel, he had not experienced first-hand how she worked, and you could very well say he was wary on that count. It wasn't likely she would approve of his direct-as-hell method, but Gaara wanted very much to settle this once and for all - even better if it could be absolved within the snap of your fingers. He had better things to do than worry about a random woman accusing him of fathering her child, and he was absolutely not going to waste his time on such matters. Regardless, he was going to tell Hinata his intentions just to let her know what he thought.

"So, who are you bringing?"

Kiba and Naruto stared at him expectantly.

Gaara scowled. "What?" He asked bluntly.

"They're asking who you're bringing to the pre-game party." Chouji explained serenely, as though he understood why Gaara hadn't been paying attention to their conversation for the past few minutes.

Damn. He'd forgotten entirely about the lavish parties Jiraiya threw at his multimillion dollar home before and after seasonal games, but he didn't really have to search for a date since Hinata would have to be his, no thanks to Yuuhi Kurenai and Jiraiya.

It wasn't a very appalling idea, however. Hinata might not be stunning and gorgeous, but he sensed intelligence, wit and compassion in her despite her shyness. He didn't know why, but he knew would most likely _not_ anticipate going home earlier with his usual harpy if he hadn't been hit with her around.

It also reminded him that it had been a long time - far too long - since he had the opportunity to take a decent woman (decent being one who respected herself and did not try to get her hand down his pants too eagerly) out for a date of sorts.

Gaara shrugged in response at after Chouji's clarification. "I'll find one by the time."

"As always." Naruto smirked.

If the guys were thinking of the usual blond on his arm, they'd be wrong. And very surprised too, he figured, but he couldn't blame them. That was who he was, and who he still was.

Only this time, there was going to be an exception.

Naruto's reaction also reminded him of something. Hinata was right. She'd said it wouldn't be convincing. She had anticipated this very well, had seen it in her mind's eye clearly and know that she would never work for him as his girlfriend - she'd even made it clear to everyone this morning.

Damn, but it didn't occur to him that the woman had seen this possible situation in her mind's eye. That meant she knew how she was viewed, how she would be viewed. There were no false or fancy illusions about her. She could predict _this _and neither was she afraid to voice it.

Along with that, he knew he'd just been given that little peek behind the facade he thought he'd judged correctly, the face he thought he knew just as everyone would assume the moment they laid eyes on Hyuuga Hinata.

How wrong they would have been.

"Does Hinata attend these parties?" He asked casually. He probably had seen her, but then again, he wouldn't have noticed her. It was a little startling to note how easy it was for her to slip past him so quickly, and somehow, it didn't please him one bit.

"Sometimes," Kiba said, scratching his ear. "She treats these parties mostly as..." He scrunched his face, trying to grasp for a word. "I don't know. It's like she never relaxes."

"She frigid?" Naruto asked, before looking at his teammate while chugging down an entire bottle of water. All of them drank a lot to make sure they weren't dehydrated, which also meant that they peed a lot, but it was definitely better than being dehydrated or fainting on the field like a girl, and not being able to exert yourself physically and make full use of the time. The entire team rarely drank alcohol - it was a no-no to consume them during practice season before any major games, and you were literally screwed if you broke the rule. Bingeing on alcohol meant you couldn't have a clear head in practice, which screwed up plenty of plans the head coach had prepared, and in the long run, also lowered the risks of clinching victories. As captain, one of the off field responsibilities he had was to make sure the guys didn't do stupid things like these. Jiraiya had made his stand pretty clear by imposing strict fines or even a ban from participating in practice sessions and official games, for players who didn't have enough brains to keep their hands away from alcohol.

"More work oriented, I would say." Chouji put in. "Its a timely moment for her to maintain her contacts or build them. She also appears because it's compulsory, and Jiraiya insists everyone who has been issued an invitation to attend."

"Yeah. It's either that or... she really doesn't know how to have fun." Naruto pointed out, grinning slightly. Gaara couldn't see how that was funny. If he had a choice to attend a party or spend more time on the field alone, kicking, he would choose the latter. He figured Hinata would do the same - just substitute the kicking for a book perhaps. Parties like these only made him bored and most of the time Gaara occupied himself with a female and observed how people reacted/interacted with each other, or to him. He found the small talk and flattery meaningless since he could very well have spent the hours lengthening his practice sessions.

"It's not that," Chouji said, pointing his knife at Naruto, who eyed it warily. He chewed on his boiled potatoes and said, "The parties aren't_ that_ exciting to me at least, and I can understand why she'd rather not be there."

Gaara nodded. "How do you know she never relaxes at such parties?" He directed his question at Kiba.

"Body language," The Inuzuka nodded wisely. "You can definitely tell it from the way she holds herself."

Kiba's method of observing always proved to be accurate especially on the field, but this was an inane ability of most human beings and Gaara knew what he meant. Kiba might seem rash and reckless, but there he had a knack for reading people well and Gaara seldom doubted it. However, he would be the judge for himself, Gaara decided.

And if they wanted this to look convincing and not...wooden-like, both of them had to do something about it.

Rubbing his jaw, Gaara tilted back his head, brooding, and almost didn't catch the next few words Naruto uttered.

"...old man's getting crazy I swear. Says he wants some goddamned Halloween masquerade themed party. Like we want to rack our brains deciding what to go as! Remember last year? It was some space shit. There was so much mirrors and neon lights, I thought-"

"Say that again." Gaara said. He could feel his muscles tensing. Christ, did Jiraiya have to have a theme for all of his party? It was a wonder the man didn't run out of ideas.

"What?" Naruto asked, bewildered. "The space shit theme? Dude, you were there-"

"The theme of the party." Gaara gritted out.

"Oh right. Halloween-Masquerade. It's supposed to be real sexy and stuff. Or so the perv says." Naruto repeated. "Cos' this time, the pre-game party falls close to Halloween and all."

"Bullshit." Chouji added. "I'm not going as anything. My tux is perfectly fine, and I always wear it to his parties, even though they're always themed. I am absolutely not gonna waste my hard earned money on stupid costumes."

Gaara lifted his water bottle in a mock toast. "My sentiments exactly."

"Aw man, you guys are no fun!" Kiba grinned. "Just for the heck of it, come in something you'll feel good wearing. Give everyone something to talk about!"

_Give everyone something to talk about. _

Gaara's eyes narrowed.

* * *

><p>National Rugby League's sexiest rugby player of the year was 193 cm tall, tipped the scales at a solid 97 kilograms, shared the same star sign as her (Capricorn) and was generally one hell of a rugby player. That was all she could know for now.<p>

Specific key word being c_ould. _

The rest, Hinata thought as she gazed across the table at the freshly showered, hunky redhead seated opposite her in a cosy restaurant, would have to be made known to her with _his_ help.

The Hyuuga had spent some time pondering over how best to tackle his scandal in the office. The usual way was to understand so-and-so better, know what he wanted to do, what sort of message he wanted to communicate before she set down any plans for him. But Gaara wasn't used to having a publicist, and he might find that intrusive.

As like every other person, she had so many impressions of Gaara. She'd assumed plenty of things about him, and as his publicist, she needed to mentally erase everything she ever knew about him and start from scratch. She would be the judge - she would form new impressions about him with clues from his own lips, his own words. There was no need for jaundiced eyes and thus, Hinata had mentally erased (as best as she could) her memory of publications on him - newspapers/magazine articles, relevant documents on him, even media releases. She'd read them because she wanted a hawk's eye of how often he appeared in public and the general image he presented, which she could sum it up in two words respectively: popular and reclusive.

An odd combination it was, but not uncommon. It was clever - people thought they knew plenty about him, but news (him having a penchance for blonds, his skills as a rugby player and his public appearances) about Gaara merely kept people occupied and far away from the other more private matters which she presumed he did not want strangers/ardent fans to know.

It was very tricky - knowing him as a public figure and knowing him personally were two very different things, viewpoints she needed to be careful about.

Hinata wanted Gaara to know that they were starting on a clean slate. Now, she saw him just as a stranger - a very attractive one - who had a problem.

Some people said a publicist was like the personal guardian of the client - he knew his client well on a personal level, understood his character and needs as well as a mother would her child, in order to be able to represent him and pass on the information he himself would have constructed. She required him to come clean with everything; no secrets, no nothing. Of course, she would have to read up on what his current image was in public, but not now. Later, after she'd formed her impressions of him based solely on interaction.

And hence back to the intrusive part: she had to know mostly everything about him in order to ensure clear communication, strategy and a correct solution for him. What she feared was his reluctance to allow her in. That all depended on how she could persuade him, she guessed.

Besides that, something else of more importance tugged at her too - Hinata had made a discovery which would certainly help with his personal scandal. She hoped it would put him in a pretty positive mood.

Hinata darted another glance at him. He looked so good, she had to take him in slowly glance by glance, or she feared all coherent thoughts and the proper use of her voice would have been disabled.

Appalling, really, the way she was behaving.

Apparently, Gaara had just showered - the ends of his hair were clumped together and the crimson mass had a dark, russet-brown look to it. They were untidy as usual, probably having been treated to a vigorous rubbing by his towel. Under his black leather jacket, he'd donned on a black shirt with a logo of the Hawks and another pair of worn out jeans.

He looked intimidating and every inch the proverbial bad boy.

When he'd first step into the restaurant and sought her presence, the reaction from most females weren't blatantly obvious, but did not escape her eyes either - they sat up slightly and took notice of him, alright. She imagined things like these didn't happen, but it obviously did - the Hyuuga could almost see heads swivelling a little to catch a glimpse as well as a few interested gazes of some men who recognised him instantly.

He was just so..._solid_, you had to look at him. And when he made a beeline for her, simultaneously, thanking the waiter who'd shown him in with a curt nod, Hinata could almost feel the eyes of several females boring into her. A good reason for her to request a private area of the restaurant, right at the back, where most newcomers wouldn't have noticed unless someone told them. She did notice the stares, but she was mainly wondering how a huge man like him could move so swiftly and gracefully.

The waiter took their orders without so much as a blink of his eye and promptly served them warm water.

"How was your day?" She asked, trying to stem her tide of nervousness and smiling at him.

"Great." He said, rolling broad shoulders beneath his shirt, turning his head this way and that. And because it was only polite of him, he inquired after her. "How was yours?"

"Fruitful." Hinata acknowledged, meeting those intense jade orbs. It was as though he'd given her all his attention and was absorbing every word that came out of her lips. Hinata had a gut feeling it wasn't because of what she'd said - the redhead was just that intense. At the meeting that morning, she'd noticed the same intensity in his eyes. It was as though he seemed to be keeping a_ beast_ hidden within him, ready to unleash hell upon anyone who dared him to. It lurked beneath those deep jade eyes, watching, assessing, ready to defend or attack if the situation was ripe, unwilling to rest.

Always on guard.

Hinata would have called a man foolish if he wanted to go against _this_ man.

Gaara tucked in his chin and gazed at her, brows rising ever so slightly.

"You found something."

Hinata nodded.

"I contacted a young man working at the Rock Eye Hotel. He works at the cafe the Sand Hawks were dining at in the last time the team travelled to Iwa, and he was there when he saw-"

"Miraimi Yui approaching me."

"Yes." Hinata allowed a full smile to reach her lips. Accomplishment and satisfaction surged through her.

Gaara's eyes flicked to her lips in the span of a nanosecond.

"He saw you there, he saw everything." She continued, leaning forward against the table, speaking in low tones. "He recounted to me the incident over the phone. But I wanted to know if he was a reliable source, if he could be trusted, and I called to ask the manager of the cafe."

"And what do you think of him?"

"Absolutely reliable." She bobbed her head once, solemnly. "But I didn't hook him up with a journalist, nor did I tip any journalists off."

"How is that going to work?"

"Well, this is what I think is right." Hinata said a little hesitantly. "But do tell me what you think after I explain it."

Gaara nodded and reached for his water, his eyes rarely leaving hers.

"If the public sees us feverishly trying to gather alibis or evidence to prove that you declined Miraimi, that you had nothing to do with her, it would be a little too desperate. Some might even think we're covering up something more serious or heinous." Hinata raised her eyes, searching for a reaction. "I wanted him to go to the press on his own volition, and I merely thanked him for giving me a clearer view on what transpired that day, because I wasn't there and that was it. About an hour later, this-" Hinata pulled out a crisp sheet of paper from a folder and passed it to Gaara "-appeared on a news website."

Hinata bit her lips and laced her fingers together as the redhead studied the article she'd printed. He would see an article - not too lengthy or short - on the young cafe worker who had seen him declining Miraimi and moving to retire to his room, as well as two CCTV screen shots of a blond lady walking away from Gaara in a huff and another showing Gaara entering his room alone.

"The fact that he went to the press on his own volition is an advantage to us. What this shows, is that we don't need to _dig_ for evidence because you did no wrong. Everybody knows that, and that's why you've been behaving calmly. The truth will prevail. The public will judge for themselves if you did it or not, and hopefully, press Miraimi to take back her words."

Gaara looked up at her, his gaze steady and penetrating.

"You're everything they said, Ms Hyuuga. And more."

"H-Hinata." Hinata swallowed. "Just call me Hinata."

"Hinata." He drawled. It was amazing how sexy he made her name sound. Oh, she was seriously in hot soup.

"They?" She croaked, her cheeks heating.

"Kiba and Chouji." Gaara elucidated. "They are in praise of you."

"A-ah." She nodded slightly, blushing to the tips of her hair

"I appreciate your efficiency and perceptivity in doing things." He inclined his head. "A lot."

She wondered if it was possible to combust under his gaze. Maybe combusting wouldn't be so bad, since she obviously felt awkward with the compliments he'd just gave her.

"T-that is required of me." She said faintly.

"No." He stared at her, putting his glass of water down. "You think it's required, but some people will think that's unnecessary. After all, why go the extra mile?"

Hinata blinked and decided to examine her hands. At that moment, the waiter arrived with the food and Hinata thanked her lucky stars she didn't have to deal with Gaara's words. She didn't know what to do or what to say - the food would certainly provide the much needed distraction.

"So what's your next move?" The redhead asked casually after she thanked the waiter and prepared to tuck in.

After several careful bites of her chicken and when she'd made sure she swallowed them fully, she spoke. "Well, the next one might be a little indirect."

Taking a deep breath, she stared into his eyes. "I need to know you better."

His gaze snapped to hers, holding her there for more than a second or two.

"I need to know who you are. I need to know how you want others to think of you. I need to know how you will respond to something like what Miraimi has created for you. I need to know _everything_ about you."

Heat crept up her neck, and her palms felt sweaty again. Her heart thundered in anticipation at his reaction.

"Information's out there, isn't it?" He asked, tone a little hard.

Was he angry?

"But they're views of others. I want to form my own impressions of you. I don't need _their_ views or impressions of you." Hinata's grip tightened on her knife. Well, hell, she was feeling nervous, and the only thing she could hold onto was the cutlery which happened to be a dinner knife. She had to persuade him quick. She knew it - he really was reluctant about this.

"We're starting on a clean slate here, Gaara." She said gently. "I know it's going to be intrusive, and you might not like it," She took another deep breath, gathering her courage. "But in order for us to have clear communication and work together properly to tide this over, I really need to know _everything_ I have to about you."

"Past girlfriends included?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Well yes, but that isn't very really important, and unless she is Miraimi Yui, no. I'm thinking areas like your family, your ho-"

The tensing of his shoulders, like the one in his fingers, was so very subtle but it didn't miss her eyes, and Hinata instinctively knew she'd touched on a sensitive area.

"Oh dear," She murmured, putting down her knife and fork, white eyes meeting his. "It's going to be very tricky, isn't it?"

He stared at her, just a hint of turmoil in his eyes. "Yes." He bit out, that edgy, wary look hardening his eyes.

_No,_ Hinata thought mentally. She didn't want him closing her out.

Biting her lips, she didn't say anything for a moment.

"W-Would you mind telling me then? About your family?"

Hinata didn't know the source of her newfound courage, but from the way Gaara reacted, she wanted to reassure him, to hear the story behind Sabaku Gaara. She didn't want to know him just because she needed to - she _wanted_ to, as a friend would care about another. She wanted to pull him close, hold his hand, or just to touch him. The urge was so strong, so acute, she almost had to fight the itch by curling her fingers into her palms.

**XXXXX**

She really shouldn't have asked that question, Gaara thought as he stared at the delicate-looking face behind those glasses, her lips partly opened, eyes soft yet steadfast and ready, open to him.

There it was again, he thought. That amazing contrast. He couldn't fathom how she did it.

It scared him to know that he himself wanted to tell her everything about his family - the father who'd never acknowledged him, the wealthy half-siblings who did not know about him, the mother he was so terribly close to, and her subsequent death. Somehow, he knew she would listen. She was like Naruto - strong enough to take it, strong enough for him to respect and confide in, even though she absolutely did not look like it.

It was crazy. He'd gotten to know her for less than 24 hours, and his gut was already telling him she could measure up to Naruto, a friend of more than a decade.

Seated against the dark colors of the restaurant's interior, Hinata looked petite and almost fragile, her face like a China doll's - her skin was fair and luminous, her lips pink and her hair so black, so inky, the contrast against her pale skin was startling. It was still in the same bun, although several strands had escaped the clutches of her tie. It was as though Gaara saw her clearer now, compared to the very first time when a huge oak table had separated them in the meeting room. His thoughts weren't on her then, and he was too busy mulling over the fresh scandal.

The way he saw it now, Hinata was giving him a chance to peel off the exterior everyone saw when they set eyes on him. _A clean slate. _She wanted to judge him based on his actions alone - not on the extravagant paintings the media had painted with such broad strokes.

But the one reason that was stopping him from telling her?

She wanted to know everything about him just so they could work together properly. And what was it all for? To polish his grimy image? He could see the point, could see what she was driving at - clearer communication, clearer instructions and understanding. But building an image was_ nothing to him, _dammit.

"Did you do the same with Akimichi and Inuzuka?"

Hinata nodded. "Yes. I didn't want to misrepresent them. They are who they are... and it's always best to make sure that they're represented the way they naturally are, the way they want to." She pushed up her glasses with her index finger. "Tell me what doesn't sit well with you." She said softly, one hand resting on the table top.

She was upfront and very clear. And he liked that a lot, but he wasn't going to show it.

"I see your point in getting to know me better." He said, brows lowering. "But you heard me in the meeting room today, Hinata. I don't give a damn about image and if a polished image is what we're working for via your little 'get to know me' method, I am against it. I don't need more publicity. I don't need you to know my family background in order to represent me. Judge me the way you do right now."

Hinata shook her head, her white eyes anxious. "You misunderstand. I don't want to _polish_ your image for you, neither do I want to pass you off as someone whom you're not. You are Gaara. I can't change that, no one can change that. All I want to do is_ represent_ you. If you're worried about me leaking private information like particulars of family members to the press, be assured t-that I won't. I'm bound by laws of the company, and I can be sued or fired if I do that. I want neither." She said in a rush. "I just want to understand you better, to get this incident out of the way the way you would want to. I meant no offence." Her head shook again. She sat with her spine straight her hands hidden under the tablecloth, in her lap, her face paler than usual.

He was being overly wary, he knew, but he'd never told anyone about his family before. Even Naruto didn't know about his half-siblings or the issue with his father - just his mother. He was willing to let on the fact that he'd been raised by a single parent, but the rest about his father and his half-siblings were out of the question. It wasn't because he was afraid of them (like hell). It was because he wanted nothing to do with people who reminded him that he hadn't been... worthy enough to acknowledge, worthy enough to be acknowledged publicly by his father.

And in the end, what had his father been pursuing?

A wholesome image. Money.

_Be reasonable_, a voice said quietly. _Hyuuga Hinata is doing her best to represent you._ _She made it clear that you aren't going to conform. You don't have to. And she has no reason to leak information, unless she wants to lose her job._

_What was it then?_ _What was that barrier preventing him from telling his friends about his family?_ He wanted to get up and pace, but he couldn't. He dropped his knife and fork on the table, as Hinata stared down at her plate, as though disappointed at herself.

Disappointment. Was it self-directed disappointment then? Did he feel..._ humiliated_ about it? Felt worthless even?

He rejected it at once, almost violently, but another part of his mind knew that that was it. He himself could not deal with the raw emotions which he'd hastily covered with a plaster, much less tell it to Hinata. Gaara gazed at the woman across from him, he throat working as she swallowed and blinked, disappointment at herself etched in her face.

This pint sized woman represented rugby players taller, larger and bigger than her. It had to take alot of courage to do that, and his reaction obviously caused her to smart. She took it as failure on her part, he realised, just like him.

His father's lack of acknowledgment clearly played a huge role in his life. He wanted it buried, but it was constantly on his mind all his life. It was the catalyst for his meteoric rise, as well as his reclusiveness, his penchant for not wanting people to get too close to him. Naruto had broken down that barrier successfully.

Hinata was halfway through.

_Do it._ A voice egged him on relentlessly. _There's nothing to be ashamed or humiliated about. You made a name for yourself out of nothing. There's nothing you can't do. Face it. Face the emotions you want buried. _

_Face it by telling Hinata._

He was just about to speak when she looked up at him and said, "Wait."

Did the woman _mind read_?

Gaara watched her expectantly.

"Don't tell me." She elaborated, moistening her lips. "I- I want to tell you something before you tell me your story. I understand you feel you might be at a disadvantage - I'll tell you _my_ family background, everything about it. It's not such a tragedy, nor is it very exciting, and you can choose not to tell me yours after I finish."

_Whoa._ He tucked in his chin and looked at her.

She was playing it fair.

She didn't need to, but she was going to.

And he was in awe.

Heck, he was_ never_ in awe - well, only when someone showed exceptional talent on the field, in a game.

Before he could say anything, Hinata started in a rush.

"I- I come from a family of four: My father, my younger sister, Hanabi and my older cousin, Neji." She glanced to her right, out the window, as though she couldn't bear to look at him. "My mother passed away shortly after giving birth to Hanabi."

It wasn't only him then, who'd lost a mother.

"Hanabi is twenty-four. Neji is of the same age as you. Neji's father and mother perished in car accident when he was three. He was the sole survivor of the crash. My father took him in and we basically grew up together. Hanabi's a... very outgoing person, and she's very smart. Whatever is on her mind, she speaks, most of the time at least. Because we lost our mother, my father had to raised three children single-handedly - a very difficult task. And he believed he could only accomplish that by being strict and formidable, so that we'd listened to him. His word was law, and we never dared to break it. As we grew older, he was still strict all the same. To make a long story short, what he basically did was to point out many mistakes we made and correct them, telling us it was never enough, that we weren't there yet. Because I was afraid, I made even more mistakes and he would be more annoyed, and I would be even more afraid. It was a cycle. The pressure was there, and so was the high level of expectation. As a result, I yearned to be acknowledged, to be praised, and this...fear and doubt grew in me. Like I knew I wasn't going to be able to succeed, and I was never going to have a chance to prove myself. I spent a lot of time worrying about that, even till today-"

Hinata paused, as though tired. A few seconds later, she ploughed on. "It got to be so bad that when I faced decisions and I had to take initiative, in my mind's eye, I was always trying to leap an extremely high hurdle, with my father standing there, watching me condescendingly, knowing I could not." White eyes met his, and she nodded awkwardly. "I'd start doubting my abilities, thinking about failure, and that made me hesitate to do plenty of things. Do you remember the part where we were discussing the p-plan this morning?"

He nodded.

"I almost couldn't object to it. I spent alot of time trying to overcome my doubts quickly, to gather my courage, to point out that it would be done better another way, or not at all. I struggled with it. Nowadays, it doesn't bother me so much, because my father is aware of all that I am capable of, and he makes sure I know that too. I know that when I take that leap, when I want to, I can do it."

Hinata shifted slightly.

"I think my father can't be blamed. He was afterall learning how to raise not one, but three children alone. You couldn't very well blame him for behaving like that. He didn't know how to handle the fear in me, and neither did I, initially. I was the one who imagined plenty of things, who was overly sensitive. I needed to learn how to deal with it, and I'm still learning, but it's much better now. And that's the end."

She smiled, but then her forehead creased a little, as though realising something. "Oh dear. It sounds like I told you more about my fears than my family." She gazed down at her hands and laughed a little. "That _is_ kind of embarrassing."

"I'm not going to laugh at that." Gaara said huskily. "I never contemplated doing that. You did tell me about your family afterall."

Hinata's openness about her lack of self-confidence and esteem was unlike anything he'd ever seen. He was impressed. It wasn't easy at all for her to tell him about herself, about her hesitance, her fears, her cause for her lack of esteem, and her acknowledgement of it all. She'd laid down her weapons even before he moved to surrender his, and ran the risk of him snubbing her, mocking her. It must have taken oodles and oodles of courage before she decided to tell him about her very normal family. She was right - it wasn't overly dramatic or unusual, but there had been a journey she was forced to take. It hadn't been smooth sailing all the way, and she had endured it beautifully.

As he'd expected, Hinata was strong enough to give freely even without emotional reciprocation. Generous and giving, unafraid of being rejected or mocked at.

In some ways, she was similar to him. From fear, from his father's lack of acknowledgement for him, from the seed of doubt of her capabilities her father had planted in her mind, both of them had struggled to travel the rough and arduous journey, but they'd completed it somehow, and it had landed them where they were today.

She could have made it up, but Gaara knew a liar when he saw one, and Hyuuga Hinata absolutely wasn't lying. He doubted she could lie to him.

The woman had guts that she showed in a different way, and he liked that. Hinata could have taken the easier route - back off from her proposal and let the case rest, even let him persuade her easily with his curt 'no' that he was not going to open up to her. But she'd chosen to tell him about her family to make it fair play. She'd chosen the road less travelled to show she was sincere. She'd earned his respect, and she would have it.

_There's nothing to be ashamed or humiliated about. It was a fact that your father didn't acknowledge you. It's a miracle you've been keeping this a secret for so long and now, it's up to you to make peace with it. _

Make peace. Something foreign and unfamiliar, but something he _could_ attempt.

"I want to show you something." He said slowly. "I'll bring you to a place after dinner."

Hinata gazed at him and blinked rapidly behind her glasses, her forehead creasing, but he didn't elaborate.

"Okay." She said, looking a little bewildered and cute at the same time. Her face was still red and as she moved to clean her plate, he spoke again.

"A clean slate you say?"

She nodded solemnly, understanding what he meant.

"A clean slate."

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><p>A GINORMOUS thank you for your wonderful reviews. I treasure those words a lot. =D<p> 


	4. Four

**Disclaimer:** Naruto and all characters are created by Masashi Kishimoto. No profits whatsoever are made from this fanfiction in anyway.

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><p><em>4<em>.

After they wrestled verbally for the bill (which Gaara won), the redhead led Hinata out into the cool night air and to a black, strong looking motorbike which would have made a Vespa want to blush prettily. Gaara stopped in his tracks even before he reached his bike and promptly turned, jade eyes appraising her attire carefully.

The Hyuuga immediately understood his examination of her clothes - he wanted to see if she was dressed appropriately for bike-riding. She didn't know if someone above had aligned things neatly for her, but fortunately enough, she'd chosen to wear pants today and left her skirts hanging in her wardrobe. Add to that the fact that she usually swapped her office heels for a sensible pair of pumps before she left the office every day, because heels simply killed her feet.

However, Hinata had never touched a motorbike before, much less ridden one in her entire life and she was still reeling from the fact that she had spilled her entire life story out to Sabaku Gaara during dinner. Well, okay, maybe not her entire life story, but it was enough to have caused her a red face and jumbled up thoughts throughout the rest of the evening.

She didn't usually do things like that, but her instincts told her that doing so would mean no harm to her or to the rugby player seated opposite her.

She figured if he'd refused to cooperate after the entire thing, she'd have to look for another way. You could arrive at a specific destination in various ways, and Hinata believed that if her initial route would not bring her there, she would adopt another one if the situation arose. Gaara's response after her little storytelling had ended left her brain working furiously: What sort of place would be connected to his family? A home indeed, but if it was a place where he lived everyday, why didn't he say so earlier? It might or might not be his home, but it was Hinata's guess.

All that, however, was temporarily shoved to the back of her mind afterawhile when the petite woman realised she was going to have to ride a bike.

As in, _wrap-your-arms-around-Gaara's-torso_ motorbike.

She gaped intelligently at the vehicle, marvelling at the heavy mass of steel, black leather and rubber, her palms turning sweaty at the mere thought of the bike swerving in and out of traffic, amongst vehicles. Even seated in a secure rollercoaster seat with strong seatbelts already had Hinata in a cold sweat, much less riding a bike with all the wind and air whipping around her.

_Aw, don't be such a wimp_, a voice chided.

"From the look on your face, I think it's safe to say that you have never ridden one before." Gaara gazed at her, a glint of humour present in his eyes, so different from the wary look tightening his features earlier.

"Well, y-yes." Hinata answered, twisting her fingers together in tight knots, wishing she could say otherwise. She didn't want him worrying about mode of transportation, just when he was ready to open up to her, to tell or show her something majorly important in his life! What if he decided to go back on his word? Her efforts would have been wasted, just because she wouldn't get on a damn bike.

The redhead certainly didn't look like a man who went back on his word though, that was for sure, Hinata realised, a little startled by her trust in him.

"If we have to go by bike," She said with more courage than she actually had. "Then we will, I guess."

"Are you sure?" Gaara asked. He glanced around once before his eyes burned into hers.

"I don't want to make more trouble for-"

"You won't." He interrupted her, not harshly. "I haven't got an extra helmet though, and I'm not risking your life by forcing you to ride without one. But," Gaara paused.

"But?" Hinata asked weakly.

"I know of a store selling bike gear just round the corner. So if you're_ really_ up for this, I'll take you there to get a helmet."

Hinata blinked and gulped, caught between his unexpected considerateness and the fact that she would have to decide if she wanted to ride his bike or not. He was giving her a choice.

_C'mon, decide! Don't make him wait. For all you know, a fan club could very well start mobbing him right now._

That wasn't very far from reality. A few people were already glancing curiously at him, doing conspicuous double-takes and nudges as they walked past them. Some even slowed down their paces just to catch a longer glimpse of him.

This was once in a lifetime.

She would never, ever have the chance to ride his bike with him after he settled his affairs.

Sensible, safe and cautious Hinata was always turning down exciting activities with her friends so she wouldn't feel embarrassed, so she wouldn't make a fool out of herself, so she wouldn't be in the centre of attention. But this time, she wouldn't be in the centre of anything, because there were only the two of them, and Hinata had pretty much told him the embarrassing parts about herself.

"You need time to overcome those fears?" He asked, moving off the vehicle and approaching her, voice deep and attentive. "Is this one of them? Doing something spontaneous makes you hesitate?"

She looked into his jade eyes - serious and intense, not an ounce of mockery in them at all, and nodded quickly.

This man knew her fears after she'd told him so - somewhat knew the way her mind worked to overcome those mental obstacles, understood her worries. She needn't feel ashamed.

Perhaps she would be missing out on something spectacular if she said 'no'. How many times had she weighed the consequences and said no to something she would have liked to do, but didn't have the guts to?

"What does riding a bike feel like?" She asked, almost whispering.

He didn't even blink at her question.

"Makes you feel like you're faster than light itself. Without a care in the world, free of burden or expectations." He answered, brows lowering, gaze intensifying. "But that's only on the highway and in roads where there aren't many cars." A smiled tugged at his lips. "I'll drive carefully if you agree. No fancy driving, no fast zooming or sharp turns." Then, lowering his voice and in a husky tone, he added, "I don't want to spoil your virgin ride and make you regret this."

A fiery blush flooded her cheeks, heat spreading across her body as a fresh bout of goose bumps popped up gleefully. His words reminded her of sweaty, naked skin, shallow breathing and naughty whispers across tangled sheets. It sounded as though they were embarking on something forbidden, but coming from Gaara, he made it sound even hotter, hotter than the sun.

God, naughty and forbidden.

That sounded like something Hanabi would do, instead of her.

_But you've torn down those mental barriers of yours. What's stopping you?_

Indeed.

"Is the bike store nearby?" She asked, biting her lower lip.

Gaara exhaled.

"Are you sure about this?"

"I t-think so."

He stared her down, and just like that, Hinata was no longer afraid of his intimidating stares.

"Yes." She said, her heart pounding frantically in her chest, her fingers curling into sweaty palms.

"Let's go." He said, jerking his head.

* * *

><p>"And who is that man? Who <em>is<em> that? It's Sabaku... From Uzumaki, it's back to Sabaku, he's got it, he's got it, ohhh..._Yes! Yes!_ It's past the line, I don't believe it! The man has got the ball! He's done it again! He's..."

From the LCD TV screen mounted on the wall, Kankurou watched lethargically as the cheering of the crowd plagued the sports commentator's rambling. A playback of Sabaku Gaara's kick was shown again briefly - the ball shot from Uzumaki-Namikaze Naruto's capable hands and into the waiting palms of his redheaded teammate, a fierce expression dominating Gaara's handsome features as it sailed over the heads of numerous rugby players within a matter of seconds after touching the tip of his shoe.

Kankurou knew that game. In fact, he had been so hyped up about seeing the Hawks play live against Ravens a few months back that he hadn't even missed a single second of it. The Sand Hawks had pounded the Pistol Ravens so badly, the players on his favoured team didn't show much triumph whenever they scored tries or drop goals. Even after the game was over, Kankurou had had a whale of time talking and raving about it with his friends.

The Pistol Ravens weren't_ that_ easy to defeat, but the Hawks were by far the best team assembled, with the likes of Uzumaki, Rikuzen, Inuzuka, Akimichi and Sabaku. They were Kankurou's all-time favourite team, and he'd been following most of their games since he was eleven.

"Amazing man, that one." The bartender said, nodding his head towards the screen.

Kankurou tore his gaze from the screen to look at him.

"Yeah." He looked down at his drink. The dark-haired man knew without having to clarify, that the bald headed bartender was referring to Sabaku Gaara. "He's the best, isn't he?"

"The world's best." The man clucked his tongue. "Been to one of those games." He shook his head. "Raw power. Poor guy from the other team couldn't even match 'im." He chuckled, nodding. "See? Don't even know what that opponent's name was. The world only remembers Sabaku's name."

"Yeah." Kankurou repeated. "The world only remembers his name."

It would have been pretty swell and all if Kankurou knew him personally and had the chance to interact with him. Now that he'd discovered Sabaku Gaara was his younger _sibling_, he didn't know what to do with his reverence for the fly-half and his team.

A pretty brunette sat beside him and ordered her drink in a sultry voice. He could feel her green eyes sizing him up, taking in the sight of the watch on his wrist, his jeans and his white Armani shirt.

_Huh. _He didn't have time for women now.

"Thanks," He nodded at the bartender, threw some money onto the counter and got up, ignoring the woman.

"See you aroun', young man,"

"Great talking to you," He called back, turning casually to salute him with two fingers before strolling out of the warm bar. Fishing out his car keys, a black SUV parked at the side of the pavement beeped obediently before he opened the car door and got into the driver's seat. He hadn't drank much at all - Gaara's issue weighed far too heavily in his mind for any real indulgences - and so he wasn't afraid of being stopped by the boys in blue.

_How would Sabaku Gaara react?,_ he thought moodily as he started the engine. It was so whacked, he didn't have a clue as to how he was supposed to go about tackling this.

Kankurou knew his math - Gaara was three years younger than he was. He also knew, from Temari's 'research', that Gaara wasn't an idiot. In fact, the redhead had gone through some pretty good schools when he was in his teens on his own merit.

So had Kankurou, but that wasn't the crux.

Older brothers didn't go around praising their younger brothers in front of others and being in awe of them. Older brothers didn't feel intimidated-

"Bloody hell," He muttered, clutching the steering wheel tightly. "I am _not_ jealous or intimidated."

Things might have turned out to be a lot more different if Gaara had been brought up with them. For instance, they would both play rugby most of the time and take turns annoying Temari. A smile kicked up the corner of his mouth._ Huh._ She would have liked that. In fact, Temari would probably join them in the rugby part. The woman was just so darned sporty, it was a wonder she hadn't turned down her nose at the prospect of their father passing on the company to them. Skirts, blouses ad heels just weren't Temari's thing, but his older sister adapted well, and if it meant having to take the reins, she would do it. Plus, she did it well too.

If Gaara had been with them right from the beginning, he thought as he made a turn, they could even have taken rugby classes together and be picked to play by the Hawks's head coach. Well, even if he wasn't selected, he wouldn't mind at all.

_Really?_

Yeah, he thought. _Yeah._ He really meant it. It would have been a pleasure to watch Gaara evolve into a well-known player with skills so well-honed that it left everyone slack-jawed, that it left commentators breathless with excitement, that it left him feeling proud that Gaara was his brother. They would have been able to discuss so many things, it would drive Temari insane. They would have a bond so strong, so deeply rooted that it would be impossible to break.

His life could have turned out so much more different, with Gaara in it. The fights he'd have with Temari would also probably have been shared by someone else. To Kankurou, it was like buying three tickets for a movie with only two people watching it until towards the end, when the third person could finally join them. The third would never know the laughter, the tears and the bitterness they'd experienced throughout the movie, nor understand how they would react to the movie.

Dark brown eyes landed on his rear view mirror, and he remembered the bumper sticker he'd stuck there. It was the famous logo of the Hawks.

Now that he thought about it, it appeared moronic to him. If Gaara discovered what a major fan he was of his team...

"Awkward." He muttered, raising his eyebrows and blew out air as the hotel they were staying in came into view. "Definitely awkward."

But, he pointed out defensively to himself later after parking the vehicle and locking his car, he had nothing to hide. It would have been even more embarrassing if he hid that fact. He would never hear the end of it for the rest of his life if Temari discovered he was trying to hide certain well-known facts about him.

Kankurou knew very well that their father hadn't bothered to acknowledge Gaara although he had agreed to provide for them financially (which was rejected by his mistress accordingly) It needled at him incessantly. If he were in Gaara's shoes, a grudge against the family was expected, but it also didn't seem fair to Kankurou. His father was the one who'd made a mistake. Not them.

He understood that he and Temari were representatives of the man who might or might not be the man Gaara held a grudge again and therefore, the redhead probably had reservations about _reuniting_with them.

But if Gaara refused, or was unable to see them as two separate entities - different from their father - and judge them as they were, without their father's mistakes hanging over them like a dark little cloud, he would take his hands off the matter entirely and go home with the bitter knowledge that his favourite rugby player was a prick.

* * *

><p>About half an hour later, Hinata stood beside Gaara's bike with her helmet in her hands - it was a grey, matte solid looking thing, with a clear visor of the same shade. It didn't have any fancy designs on it, and was neither too girly nor boyish.<p>

Just fine.

The thug-like store owner had directed them to a section where numerous helmets in different shades of pink and of a flowery nature sat. Hinata even thought she saw one in bright, fluorescent pink and another with a world map on it. Gaara took one look at the expression on her face and had her in the unisex section instead. They wrestled verbally for the bill again, and Gaara threatened to go back on his promise to show her his intended 'place'.

"The next meal is on you." He'd drawled as they exited the store after the owner, who was a huge Sand Hawks fan, had requested Gaara sign one of his helmets. Hinata agreed, and appreciated the way he treated her as an equal.

She placed the helmet over her head. After that try out in the store, Hinata had sensibly released her hair from her bun and rearranged it into a low ponytail tied at the base of her neck instead. She made sure her spectacles sat firmly on the bridge of her nose,that the strap of the helmet was adjusted accordingly and buckled, and finally, made sure that her helmet was in place.

For someone who looked as though he didn't give a hoot about the dangers of motorcycles and the risk of accident, Gaara was a stickler for safety and Hinata appreciated his sensibility. Also judging from Gaara's small grin, Hinata bet she looked like a dork. She felt like one, but she wasn't going to say anything. Her cheeks had already said it all.

She wondered about full blown smiles from the redhead instead, and predicted that he could very well have set fire to wood with a smile of that scale.

_He should smile more,_ she thought absent-mindedly.

Gaara moved to help her tighten her helmet and instructed her to nod and shake her head just like back in that store. After she'd clarified that it wasn't squeezing her brain or slipping off her head and he was satisfied with the tightness of her strap, the redhead proceeded to put on his own helmet and adjust his strap; a normal, black one which fitted the colour of his Ducati.

He got on the bike with the ease and gracefulness of someone who did it every day then promptly pushed up the visor with the heel of his hand so he could see her.

"Sit here." He patted the passenger seat behind him. "Use my shoulders for support to get on."

"O-oh. Right."

Hinata had a vision of her butt slipping off the small seat, and willed the images away, as she closed her eyes tightly and drew in a silent breath before bracing one hand on his shoulder and got on his bike carefully. The fear of her weight unsettling the bike was almost laughable since Gaara was there to stabilise it, but it plagued her nonetheless.

"Okay?"

"I'm good." Hinata reassured Gaara as she braced both feet on the ground. The seat elevated her, higher than Gaara, so that she was roughly half a head taller than him.

He nodded, head twisted to the side, so that she could glimpse his face beneath his helmet. "Good. Now put your feet here." He pointed to a certain part of the bike where her feet was supposed to be braced, and Hinata did as she was told, with both her hands still on his shoulders, her handbag tucked awkwardly between their bodies, looped through one arm.

"Hinata." He said, maintaining eye contact with her. "I need you to hold me tight."

"Uh, okay."

He must have seen the blush on her cheeks and the hesitation in her eyes despite her consent, because he spoke again firmly. "When I mean tight, I really mean tight. Like you're clinging onto me for dear life. And this," - He tapped her fingers with his black, gloved hand - "Will have to go here." Gaara pointed in the general direction of his waist. Hinata gulped inconspicuously. Her mouth was as dry, her lips parched, and she'd never felt so nervous in her entire life.

"Okay." She moved her hand down to his back. A gloved hand reached round his back, caught her right hand and placed it on his hip. Her left hand mimicked its counterpart.

"Don't tickle me."

"I won't. Not on my life." She said nodding, and he laughed his low laugh, the one that sent goosebumps popping up along her arms.

"Are you ready, Hinata?"

There was a beat. A pause: an opportunity for her to leap off the vehicle and disappoint herself.

Moistening her lips, she nodded, more for her benefit than for his, as though trying to persuade herself."Yes."

He kicked the main stand off from the ground and started the engine. It vibrated beneath her at once, acquiescing its full power and throttle to its lord and master.

_Wow,_ she mouthed to herself.

"Keep your purse and other body parts secure." He instructed. "_Don't_ let go of me."

_Never_.

Instead, she merely gave an _Okay_, while her sensible side screamed for her to get off the bike.

Before he could kick off from the pavement, she opened her mouth hurriedly.

"Gaara?"

His head twisted, a sign he was listening.

"Don't...don't drive too fast, alright?" It sounded terribly wimpy.

He nodded. "Give me a thumbs-down if I'm driving too fast." Gaara slid his visor down.

"Alright," Hinata's stomach felt bottomless. The tips of the wings of butterflies fluttered about in her belly, anticipation building tightly in her tummy as she gripped Gaara with a little more pressure, her muscles tensing.

This was it._ No turning back now._

"I'm moving."

"Okay."

He nodded, and then they were off, not like the wind, of course.

**XXXXX**

Gaara killed the engine, bracing his feet against the concrete pavement while he gazed to his left, the strong, windy night air brushing across his jacket, ruffling the trees. The lamp posts along the road were lit, throwing just enough light for him to see the familiar boxy structure of his house standing forlornly further in.

A dog barked in the distance, and a lone cyclist sped past them, down the road, on his way home.

He felt as though he'd spent an eternity away, when just last week, he'd been here, at his home.

_Home._

Home meant a place for your family - where people who loved one another lived together under one roof, he thought bitterly. It meant familiarity, comfort, love, and solace, but these feelings didn't rise whenever he made his escape from the city to the quieter area of his house. Seven years ago in order to fulfill the promise he'd made his mother, he'd bought this place and refurbished it.

The pressure on his hips disappeared abruptly, reminding him of a certain woman seated behind.

Gaara waited as she got off the bike gingerly, small hands touching his shoulders ever so lightly in order to balance her body. He reached under his chin to unbuckle his strap before taking off his helmet. Pulling off his gloves, he turned to her.

Hinata had taken off her helmet too, and was releasing her midnight hair from the clutches of the long ponytail. She looked flushed - her cheeks were red, her lips lusciously redder than before. Those white orbs of hers were glowing with pleasure, and at that instance, Gaara thought she looked like a female who had just been thoroughly pleasured in bed.

"That was amazing," Hinata said breathily, shifting to tuck her bag securely in place.

Hell, she even sounded like one.

He'd never been this horny before. Her hands on his waist hadn't exerted much pressure at all, but he'd been thinking about those hands of hers the whole time. Clearing his throat, he reached out for her helmet. "I was at eighty. It would have been even more exhilarating at a hundred or more."

He was getting used to her personality - he liked it a lot, in fact. Hinata didn't tell him so, but he predicted that whatever life threw her, she'd deal with it accordingly, steadfastly and head-on with her grace and elegance. Tonight, she'd just shown him that. Despite the fact that she'd never ridden a bike before, she was still spontaneous enough to agree to one after pondering over whether or not to choose the safer route out. He guessed she agreed partly for convenience's sake - there was nary a taxi in sight near the area they'd dined, and partly because she didn't want to let this opportunity escape, in order for her 'strategy' to be put to good use, before he retracted his words, she had seen fit to adapt to the situation.

Hinata nodded, a smile curling her lips. "Yes, that I'm sure." She swallowed nervously as his fingers brushed against hers lightly while he tugged the helmet out of her hands and secured them to his bike. Gaara felt smug at that - it showed Hinata wasn't as immune to him as he imagined she would be.

She glanced around them, taking in the quiet street and the great distance between each house littering the entire stretch of road before her eyes landed on the glass structure before them.

"This house is beautiful," She murmured, stepping closer in order to examine it carefully. "It's so unusual. _Glass_ and steel, and concrete - an unusual combination, but it blends perfectly together."

He also realised that she talked a little more once she was at ease, and that her stutter somewhat disappeared, as though she had forgotten to be self-conscious.

"That's where we're going,"

Hinata's gaze shot to his.

"It's... yours," She breathed, realisation dawning in her eyes.

Gaara nodded, his pulse leaping, sweat collecting on his back.

He'd never brought anyone to this place before unless you counted the hiring of a housekeeper who came in twice a week to make sure the house was well-kept. Not even Naruto or his teammates knew about this. To him, this place was sacrosanct. An empty shell which once housed laughter, warmth and love although only two people had stayed in there. It housed forgotten memories of the time spent with his mother before she'd passed away and nothing else after.

But everything was going to change. He was going to let Hinata in. And, he realised with steely conviction, he wanted to.

He needed to.

There was no reason for it.

He just needed to.

The redhead took another look at her - her dark hair fell around her shoulders in unruly waves as she studied the sharp lines of the dark, glass walls, glimmering faintly in the night like a forgotten piece of trinket, eyes blinking solemnly behind her glasses.

Faintly, as though afraid of shattering the quietness, she asked, "This is where you wanted to bring me?"

He nodded again.

"It has got something...something to do with your family?"

"Yeah."

"Are you sure about this?"

Funny, how he'd ask her that same question awhile ago. He wasn't surprised, however, at her considerateness, her decision to put his feelings before her own.

Tonight had also been a night of firsts, and he wasn't likely to forget it.

Gaara nodded, jade eyes piercing hers intensely.

"I've never brought anyone here before." He jammed his hands into the deep pockets of his jacket. "Except for you."

"And I'm very honoured." Hinata said softly, clutching her bag tightly. "I-I know how difficult this must be for you." Her eyes shone with profound understanding and gratitude. "You could very well have said 'no', and you didn't have to get that helmet for me."

He lifted one shoulder. "You make it easier, Hinata."

The red dusting on her cheeks bloomed, and he started walking towards the brown, horizontal gates bordering the house. A lone lamp stood beside it, shining brightly in the darkness. Fishing out keys from his jeans pocket, he fitted it into the slot and turned it.

He could almost hear the echo of his mother's voice, just as it had always been before, whenever he arrived home.

_Welcome home, Gaara._

**XXXXX**

Hinata had seen plenty of houses before. There were those which were nondescript or fairly decent-looking, and there were those which were outright opulent and lavish. There were also those which were stylish, had character and personality, and last but not least, those which were modern and unusual.

But this one rising before her was mind-numbingly beautiful.

As Gaara flicked on some switches in the house causing light to flood the interior, Hinata gawked at the beauty before her.

Thick glass and black steel melded together perfectly, forming a rectangular, glass structure that made up the four main walls. Black steel drew perfect, similar squares on the smooth glass walls, probably hinting that some of them could be slid open or pushed outwards, acting as sliding doors or windows. On closer inspection, a beautifully quaint, oatmeal-coloured brick building rose elegantly within the embrace of the glass and steel structure, glowing quietly within the soft, luminous glow of lights installed in the house. The way she saw it now, it was as though a sophisticated glass box had been place over the brick building, preserving it, protecting it.

The bricks exuded a warm, homely feel, balancing out the coolness of the glass and metal. Although the difference between the materials utilised were stark, the entire design blended seamlessly with one another. The equilibrium of traditional and modern design, of old and new, of the past and of the future, were brilliantly epitomised before her very eyes.

It was no doubt very, very expensive, but it shone with a beauty unlike any other, meshing very different elements together seamlessly.

"Stunning." She said softly to him, the significance behind the architecture blowing her away. "It's stunning."

Through the glass, she could see several modern elements being incorporated such as a black, circular and chunky looking staircase (with no rails in sight), white walls and glass inset in the bricks, giving the entire structure a mouth-wateringly edgy look. And yet, it did feel like home. The feeling was indescribable. The best Hinata could explain it in words, was that it wasn't just pretty and gorgeous, but it had the potential to become a _real_ home.

As Hinata stepped past the main glass door and left her shoes out on the grey stoop, she noticed something very wrong with the interior though.

It wasn't messy at all.

The sofas in the living room were too neat. So were the black dining table and its chairs. The air within the house was stuffy, perhaps even warmer than that outside. After swiping a finger gently on the table, she could only conclude one thing.

She raised her eyes and met his across the table. "You don't live here." Hinata said quietly, tucking her hands behind her back.

"I don't." He said, shrugging out of his jacket. "Shall we?" Gaara nodded to the gray sofas in the living room, beside the black staircase. Hinata followed him, and moved to take a seat beside him: not too near, yet not too far. He leaned his back against the sofa, head turned slightly so that he could look at her, hands slack on his thigh.

Hinata waited patiently, knowing that he needed time to open up, to spill everything, to make peace with whatever inner demons he had.

A while later, it started to unravel.

"I made a promise to my mother when I was eighteen. If I was chosen by Baki to play for the Sand Hawks," He began. "And if I had accumulated enough money, I would buy her a home she wanted. Two years later, it came true: I was selected to be in the team, but it was only when I turned twenty-three did I have the money to buy a house and pay for renovations. I'd already been made captain of the Sand Hawks, but nothing could compare to the fact that I could actually build a home for my mother. We lived here for four years, until she passed away, and I decided to move out."

"Why?" Hinata whispered.

"It reminded me of her too much." He said, closing his eyes for a moment. "Most of the time, I was alone in this big house. I'd start thinking of the stuff she used to cook in the kitchen, what she would do upstairs, where she would sleep. I needed to put myself together, to pull up my socks and focus on my career, so I decided I wanted a place somewhere nearer to the stadium where we usually practice, and closer to the city. I bought an apartment there shortly after her death, and I've been living there ever since."

An odd pang pricked her heart as she imagined him alone, here, with no one to comfort him after his mother's death.

"This place," Gaara said, nodding. "Would be taken care of by a housekeeper I hired. She'd come in twice a week to make sure it hadn't become too dusty, to air the entire house, and also to make sure no one was living here without my permission. It's been like these for the past two years."

"Do you come back often?" Hinata leaned on the sofa sideways, her palms flat against the sofa, near her thigh. She tucked one bare foot behind her calf.

"Sometimes. When I feel like it or when I'm free. If I'm out of the country playing for the Hawks, I wouldn't though."

Hinata nodded.

"There's another side to this."

Hinata itched to curl her fingers around his, but she was not his girlfriend afterall, and that would have shocked him, so all she did was to curl her fingers into the black material of her pants. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

"Do you want to hear about it?" His gaze was turbulent. "It's not a happy one."

Hinata nodded, albeit hesitantly.

"Did your father...?"

He understood what she meant: _Did he suffer the same fate as your mother?_

Gaara's lip curled. "I wish."

Her lips parted slightly as something cold slid down her spine and wrapped icy fingers round her heart. This was uncharted territory for her. Saying the redhead had something against his father was an understatement.

"I was born a bastard. An illegitimate offspring of a married man." Gaara's voice was cool and hard, just like the very first time she heard him at the lift. It was as though his defenses had been pulled up in place again, and he spoke detachedly, as though he didn't care. But he did, Hinata realised. He did. "I think I was eight when my mother told me this."

Hinata felt her heart gathering speed, sweat trickling down her back. She sat very still, listening and gazing past him at the reflections of them on the glass panels instead. She didn't want to see the hate in his eyes.

Eight years old, and he already knew he had a father who didn't want him.

"He didn't want to acknowledge us. As expected, my mother was anguished. She told me I couldn't say who my father was. Neither could I see him and neither did he want to meet me. He was the cause of her tears, her listlessness. At one point - before I turned eight, that is - it got to be so bad that some social service people had to remove me from her care, because she was suicidal."

Hinata tore her eyes away from the glass and shifted closer to him. "Gaara..."

"She tried to take our lives. I don't remember much - the memories are hazy, but I think they're better that way. All I knew was, I was hospitalised, and that was when the social service personnel came for me."

One man's unfaithfulness had turned into a lifetime of misery for a woman and her child. Not a lifetime maybe, seeing how different Gaara was now, but it left deep scars on him and it had almost robbed him of his life, as well as his mother's. If only his father had understood how much suffering they'd went through. If only Gaara didn't have to suffer so, at such a tender age.

"I was nine, almost ten, when they finally allowed her to bring me home. She'd obviously gotten stronger mentally, because my mother didn't get suicidal anymore. All she wanted was this - us. The both of us like that, and it went on that way." There was silence then, as Gaara paused. "But I grew older, and I obviously understood things a lot more - I realised that he wanted to keep this a secret so as to preserve his image - his image of having a full, complete and happy family, a moralistic businessman who treasured his wife and children, a partner whom businessmen wanted to work with. Apparently, the PR team convinced him to do this." His voice was bitter.

"That is a fatal error." Hinata said at once, her white eyes sparking. "If the team was discovered, they would have been dealt with accordingly." She shook her head, her ponytail brushing against her back.

"I'm sure you would have done something to stop it." He said, leaning forward and moving his left wrist to his thigh, jade eyes filled with appreciation.

Hinata blushed as an emotion she couldn't put her finger on swelled within her chest.

Great. Sabaku Gaara was inflating her ego.

"You care so much about others." He murmured huskily.

Hinata realised she was leaning forward, closer to him for...for...

_What?_ _A kiss?_

Pulling back subtly, she swallowed and her tongue darted out to lick her lips, but jade eyes landed on there instead, and she mentally groaned. She dug for something - anything, to distract him, to vanquish that awkward moment.

Oh, she wanted so badly to kiss him, but she couldn't. That was wanton, and that was not Hyuuga Hinata-like.

"How do you know that?" She asked keenly. "I could be putting up an act for all you know, just to trick you."

"Huh. This is coming from a woman who so earnestly told me a while ago that the truth will prevail?" Gaara crossed his arms over his chest and turned fully to face her as Hinata felt the blood pounding her brain, flooding her cheeks a furious red. "I don't believe it."

She'd never felt so ridiculously pleased and flattered before, but she was not going to show him her pleasure of course. Looking down, she could see his jean clad knee wedged between them. If Hinata did so much as move her index finger, she could touch him.

"You can never hurt someone, Hinata. Or pretend to be cheating someone."

She would never find a man who could do intensity like him. It was unnerving, yet incredibly flattering - it was as though he'd given her all his attention, and spared not an ounce of it away from her, on other things. All his gazes were like that - no matter to whom or to what, and that was what she decided she liked about him. Fairness.

"Do...do you know where's your father now?"

Gaara shrugged sombrely. "Don't know. Don't want to know."

"Have you ever thought..." She gazed down at his knee. "T-that he would someday want to acknowledge you?"

He tensed again, but Hinata stayed with him.

"No." He said shortly. "Unlikely."

"You've never-"

"_No_, Hinata." There was something in his voice which warned her to hold her tongue. Hinata swallowed and looked up into pools of jade swirling with anger. She nodded mutely, never wishing to see such anger in his eyes and voice again, much less have them directed at her. "I respect you a lot. But you might not be able to understand this fully." Gaara bit out.

Hinata nodded, looking down at her lap. "Yes, indeed."

There was, however, one more question.

"What about...your half-siblings?"

"Anyone or anything that has to do with _him_," Gaara said, eyes narrowing. "Has nothing to do with _me_. I'm thankful I didn't have him raising me, or I very well could have turned out to be a spoilt brat."

His ire sounded even more acute, more intense with these words. Hinata sighed quietly - he might have opened up to her about his past, but Gaara still clung onto the hate towards his father, wishing to carry on with it instead of letting it go, putting it down.

"Easy." She said softly, and without any deliberation whatsoever, she placed one hand on his warm arm, leaning forward.

Mildly surprised, he looked at her, then at the small, fair hand on his arm. Those beautiful jade eyes turned darker, the anger disappearing gradually as he held her gaze strongly. An odd sort of look flitted across his features, something she didn't want to read too much into.

Hinata pulled her hand away quickly, berating herself mentally. She was like that - everytime someone needed comfort, she did it best through physical reassurances, but Gaara was a guy, and Hinata didn't go around touching men like that, even though it was a supposed to be friendly. Neither did she want to appear... promiscuous or too eager. She wasn't an expert on men, and for all she knew, the opposite sex could misread her uh, signals.

But with Gaara, she realised, she _wanted_ him to misread her signals. As natural as the sun rose and the Earth spun, he made any woman want to preen and flutter her eyelashes in front of him. It wasn't merely physical appearances, however, now that she'd (somewhat) plumbed the depths of his personality and understood him well enough. To some extent, she could safely say he was a good man who merely had inner demons to battle. Of course that could be subjected to changes, but she sensed it well enough to know that he could be trusted enough for her to get on that motorbike of his, to enter a huge house alone with him.

She was however, here to help him, not flirt with him, and she would have to remember that.

"Do they know you? And vice versa?"

"I know who they are," He said, after a very pregnant pause, during which he gazed down at the space between them. "But I have no desire to acknowledge them. I don't know if they even _know_ they have a blood relation. They could just have ignored that fact and went on with their lives."

Hinata nodded, pushing up her glasses. True.

"And that's how it ends? Temporarily at least?" A smile curved her lips.

"Yeah."

A peaceful silence settled around them, both lost in thought, before Hinata deigned to break it again.

"I remember having a couple of things I need to clarify and to confirm with you." She said slowly, wondering if he was keen on dealing with the present now that he'd been catapulted into the past. Gaara leaned forward on his elbows to show he was listening. He bobbed his head once.

"Sure."

"I have your schedule set out, roughly, at least-" Hinata thought she saw a smile flickering across his lips as she rummaged around in her document bag but ploughed on nevertheless, hoping that he wasn't laughing_ at_ her.

In the midst of discussing his weekly schedule, Gaara drew her back to the Miraimi incident. She listened carefully as he gave voice to his frustrations, his need for immediacy and his urgent desire to bring this to a close. She understood what he meant. If only things could be done in a civil and direct manner, she would gladly take it up. Hinata's mind worked furiously as Gaara spoke, grasping at some coherent idea to tackle it in a more direct manner, in a way they both could agree, until Gaara brought her attention to Jiraiya's party.

It was this Saturday, wasn't it?

_Well good luck to me,_ she thought miserably. She didn't have a clue as to what to wear. Normally, Hinata even enjoyed such parties since she wasn't the one with the spotlight shining on her. If she were lucky, she would occasionally bump into a few reporter friends of hers at such parties and they would have a little catch up right there.

"Uh..." Her stomach churned at the idea of being near him all night, wondering if it would be filled with awkward silences between them. "We will have to be there, won't we?" She smiled faintly.

"In... costume?"

That was the question she always had a ready answer for - No. That _had_ been her answer until this time, when rumours started circulating in the office that Jiraiya wouldn't allow any guests entry unless they were in costume. Two other reasons pushed her in the direction of having to rack her brains for a costume: she simply had to be at the party and also live up to the previous standards set by her uh, blond_ 'predecessors',_ if Kurenai and Jiraiya expected them to put in motion the plan.

She knew it was going to be a painful process.

Hinata reiterated to Gaara the part about the rumour and the fact that they simply had to be there, to show themselves, or Jiraiya would have a fit. Of course, she kept the last thought about her blond 'predecessors' to herself.

"Damn." He said, rubbing his jaw and gritting his teeth. "I'll talk to him about it. It's whacked-out."

"Players' privilege?" She smiled to herself as she noted down the party in the schedule she'd made for him.

"Sort of." He smirked. "I'll be a fool not to make use of it."

"Good luck, then."

He inclined his head and the dimple in his left cheek made a sudden appearance.

**XXXXX**

Later that night, as Gaara retired to his bed with Hinata's neat, hand-written schedule tacked on the wall beside him, his cell phone beeped.

_Meet and greet with the Junior Hawks tomorrow morning at 8.00PM, Concord Stadium. Don't forget. I will be there too. :) Thank you for the lovely dinner and the helmet. Hinata._

He sent her a text back in a matter of seconds.

_Will do. It's my pleasure. Night, Hinata._

_Goodnight Gaara. :)_

Rearranging his pillows, Gaara laid down and braced his head against the back of his arm, the other draped across his stomach as he remembered how Hinata had leaned forward unconsciously towards him back in his home.

Was she expecting something from him?

A kiss perhaps?

He smirked.

Kiba might have been an expert in body language, but so was he. Hinata wanted to comfort him physically but protocol dictated that she do no such thing, and she had restrained. She was after all, someone who respected others and herself. That much was clear. But somehow in the midst of all the talking and the swirl of emotions that came along with it, Hinata inadvertently revealed her attraction to him.

The redhead knew what he looked like and how females reacted to him. Heck, he almost expected it, but most of the time, it had never been of utmost importance to him nor played a starring role as an ego motivator. It too, helped in revealing the shallowness of some rather interesting characters he had met throughout his life.

And damn, but no woman had ever tried to calm him down when he was angry. Sure, some of them had tried to seduce him out of his anger or even utilise it on several occasions, but most of the time, they left him alone when he raged. Few had sincerely seen fit to soothe his anger and none succeeded.

Gaara glanced at Hinata's neat hand-writing.

She didn't quite fit into the cookie cutter mould he had assembled for her initially, which was a good sign. He knew Kurenai and Jiraiya hadn't picked the wrong person for him at all.

He would most probably enjoy working with Ms Hyuuga Hinata.

* * *

><p>Miraimi Yui sobbed uncontrollably as she curled up on a small couch in her messy apartment, the only light in the darkened, stuffy apartment coming from the soft, blue glow of her computer. Long blond hair stuck against her damp neck, sweat trickling down the side of her head as she rocked herself repeatedly.<p>

"He's lying," She whispered, one hand on her abdomen, thumb stroking it slowly. "Right, sweetheart?"

Hadn't Sabaku Gaara slept with her that night? How could he declare so harshly otherwise to the media, just as she'd read?

Yes, he_ had_ rejected her in the first place, which corroborated with the CCTV shots some guy had whipped up, but wasn't it Gaara who had appeared again that night in the dark bar full of dancing people in...in...

_Which country had it been? _She racked her brains. _Had it been Kumo? Iwa?_

_I don't care,_ Yui thought, irritated. Her vision and memory might have been distorted because of the lover's speed she'd snorted, but she couldn't have missed that amazing crimson hair and jade eyes anywhere. She had been more smitten than she realised, Yui discovered, ever since she first set eyes on him. A woman could only attract a man who looked like_that_ with one way, and she'd done just that, but he had rejected her.

"He returned," She said softly, biting the long sleeve of her shirt. "He returned to me." Gaara was the one who'd made incredible love to her that night, and it was he who was the father of her child. She was sure of that. He was the one who'd brought her to that...that hotel, or some room of some sort, after bumping into her in the bar. The memories were too hazy for her to recall.

It had to be him, it had.

_But why was he was lying?_ She thought as desperation clawed frantically at her heart, remembering the article she'd seen on the net. Grinding her teeth and curling her fists behind her knees, which were drawn up against her chest, she screamed and sobbed simultaneously, struggling to prevent anxiety from dragging her down into its dark abyss.

Did he have someone he liked then? Had he moved on so swiftly, so quickly without thought for her?

Perhaps he didn't want her because she was such a groupie. Or perhaps he looked down on her because she herself couldn't even cherish her body, because she'd shared it with so many men before him. Or perhaps he saw her just as another woman to gratify his sexual pleasures, just as she had been using them most of the time.

_Did he? Did he?_

"But I have his baby." She sobbed, hitting the sofa repeatedly with her clenched fist. "I have his baby."

He couldn't just turn his back on her. Gaara would do something about it.

"He has to care," She whimpered.

She wanted the baby. She wanted the baby like never before, but she didn't have a job, and how would she feed the child? Gaara obviously wouldn't want it, but she would make sure he didn't get rid of it. Yui moaned as a sense of dread filled her entire being. She didn't want an abortion. What if she died from having one? She closed her eyes tightly. Would he come in the middle of the night to make her have one?

Shaking her head vigorously, Yui shot up from her couch and bolted the door quickly before scrambling back to her place. The blond almost slipped on her own clothes and a few magazines thrown on the floor in her mad haste to take her seat, but she didn't take notice of it. The questions which had plagued her mind everyday swum in front of her hazily._Was he shirking his responsibility? Didn't he love her? He had to._

"Because I do," Yui sobbed throatily. The emotion had been so strong, so powerful, it burned into her mind like no other emotion ever had before. She loved Gaara more than life itself, and she loved his baby. He must have felt it, that night between them. He was the only rugby player she'd ever slept with and loved. That night had been so unusual, so surreal and so magical.

She was willing to give up everything - the drugs, even though she craved them daily, as much as one craved air and the lifestyle she was so used. Anything for the baby, for him.

Perhaps... perhaps he felt the same way - it was just that she'd never made it clear to him all along. Yui bit her lower lip.

She would tell him. After all, she'd only declared that she was carrying his child, and not her feelings. She wouldn't go to the media now. She wanted to tell it to him personally, to see his reaction. _But what if he doesn't reciprocate my feelings?_

Panicking, Yui stood up and paced the floor, her heart galloping wildly, her mind blank. The sudden motion made a huge wave of nausea roll within her stomach. She lurched for the toilet, but didn't reach it in time. Instead, she ended up throwing up all over the bathroom floor while bile rose in her throat again.

After much heaving and vomiting, she leaned back tiredly against the wall and grabbed a bunch of tissues from the roll, using it to wipe her mouth. Unbidden, tears started to form, blurring her vision.

_He had to_, she thought, her heart aching as she brushed several tears away. _He had to love her. _Gaara was the father of her child, and she would settle for no less.

It wasn't long before she broke down and cried long and hard.


	5. Five

**A/N:** Presenting Chapter 5 of _Arm Candy_. My sincere apologies for the long, _long_ wait. Minor amendments have been made to Chapters 1 and 2 (labelling of the cities). I apologize in advance for any spelling/grammatical errors. *Keeps fingers crossed.

**Disclaimer:** _Naruto_ and all characters are created by and belong to Masashi Kishimoto.

* * *

><p><em>5.<em>

_This is insane_, Hinata thought, her senses greedily absorbing her surroundings as pulsing purple and neon flash lights lit up the dim ballroom, illuminating what must have been thousands of people dancing to the rapid beat of a popular live, hard-rock band, which included a stylishly scruffy looking violinist.

The usually regal-looking grand ballroom of The Capitole, by far the city's swankiest and luxurious hotel, had been transformed into a chic, grungy gothic themed set straight out of an iconic Alfred Hitchcock movie.

Add to the combination a whole bunch of sexy vampires, vampy little Red Riding Hoods, Snow Whites, and draculas, Hinata was left convinced that this was more a gathering for the elite of the underworld instead of rugby players, socialites, gorgeous models, celebrities and other who's who at the Sand Hawks' exclusive pre-game party.

Glancing up, Hinata caught an eyeful of elegant, elaborate black chandeliers hanging suspended from the high ceiling, juxtaposed against the modern contrast of the pulsating purple and neon lights. Gigantic black Venetian masks, each the size of an adult elephant, loomed down at her from the marble columns while waiters and waitresses clad in white Phantom of the Opera-like dominos, waltzed past them, bearing black trays with haute couture cupcakes, deep red martinis, vodkas and other alcoholic beverages with fancy names she could never grasp.

It certainly seemed as though Edgar Allen Poe himself, the master of gothic romance, had been busy helping Jiraiya and the events team to furnish the ballroom, Hinata mused, as the rock band started another fast paced song. It had Jiraiya's flamboyancy and trademark extravagance stamped all over it. He was sure to be pleased.

Someone slithered behind her, brushing her rear in the process.

"_Excuse_ me," Hinata said stiffly, her forehead furrowing as she shot the retreating back of a male a reproachful glance. A blond female vampire bumped into her right. She shifted aside to let her pass but the dark haired Hyuuga found herself being jostled away from the ginormous fifth marble column that stood as a marker for her to meet Gaara.

_Oh shoot,_ she thought, peering out from the delicate silver domino made out of tulle and lace she had secured around her face. She was never going to find Gaara in this throng of party-goers. Another vampire in Giorgio Armani, this time dark haired and dark eyed with fake fangs, leered down at her with interest, an appreciative smile curling his lips. Almost every male was suited up in typical black and white or other muted colours, except for a select few, who had come dressed in accordance to the theme.

Hinata fought the urge to glance around to see if anyone had spotted her, or if the vampire could tell she wasn't... who she was. He shot her another charming smile. Hinata smiled politely but made no move to approach him. She turned away -

- only to smack face first into what seemed to be a suit-wearing marble column.

"Are you alright?" came the low, deep voice that she had been waiting unconsciously to hear.

She looked up past the starched, dark grey Hugo Boss suit that skimmed impossibly broad shoulders, her expectant gaze clashing with familiar, thickly lashed eyes the colour of the sea. Hinata was steadily made aware of the subtle pressure of one warm hand that had landed on her back, the intense heat of Gaara's palm warming her skin deliciously through the lacing at her back.

Hinata wasn't the sort to swoon, but apparently, her heart was totally into swooning, like a silly teenager who'd just seen her crush. She couldn't help it - her breath got lodged in her throat and her heart did several odd leaps. If it was even capable of that.

The captain looked as though he'd just completed a shoot for GQ magazine. Any man would have looked good in a suit or a tuxedo, but on him, it was positively devastating. He looked bigger, brawnier and handsomely dangerous, his muscular build sharply emphasised by the austere colour of the material. Its dark shade was set off nicely with a crisp white shirt beneath his suit, complete with a dark, tasteful navy blue tie neatly knotted at his sternum. Fascinated, she looked up at him again, noticing that his crimson hair was as tousled as ever, famous tattoo obscured by soft crimson strands. Sneaky fingers of pulsating lights from behind slid amongst the thick, silky tendrils tantalizingly, russet layers turning a heady gold, then brown and then red again.

"Gaara," She said in relief, after composing herself and willing herself not to stutter. He tucked in his chin and gazed at her, eyes narrowing slightly. She could see him trying to place her face in his mind.

Despite the fact that Gaara was clearly not dressed up for a masquerade, she thought he would have belonged right here in the ballroom full of beautiful creatures. Toss a mere suit on the man and he looked like a muscly, redheaded greek god. Geez. Even that attractive vampire had looked like a dandy when compared with Gaara.

Hinata, on the other hand, had spent half a day just to get her hair, makeup, manicure and pedicure done, and whatever it is that other women were so fond of having when they had free time while she rushed about like a headless chicken. The Hyuuga had to admit she loved her look, but it was such an indulgence that she would never be able to afford on a regular basis, as much as she would like to. This 'transformation' took place under the watchful eyes of Jiraiya and Kurenai, who were hell bent on churning out a simple, classy brunette.

The end result? A barely recognizable Hinata who had shed her glasses, replaced them with brown contact lenses, and exchanged her comfortable, practical business wear for a floor length, pale seafoam gown with short, delicate laced sleeves at her shoulders. Lovely layers of frothy seafoam tulle fell to her feet, reminiscent of turbulent waves crashing onto the shore, whimsically embellished with small silver pearls. Hinata had also specifically stated no plunging necklines, no daring slits or any tummy baring dresses, for logical reasons - her cellulite. To which Kurenai had tsked and said there was no cellulite, but Hinata knew all women said that to one another. Plus, she was intent on not embarrassing Gaara.

Hinata did love the dress, and looking into Gaara's eyes now, she understood why Kurenai had chosen that colour for the dress.

It brought out his eyes perfectly, she realised.

Jade eyes raked down her form in disbelief as recognition dawned in his eyes. "Hinata?"

She smiled at him nervously. She murmured an assent, tinged with the slightest bit of embarrassment. "Good evening, Captain."

A slow smile tugged at his lips, then he glanced around them casually, doing a quick scan of the ballroom, probably to see if anyone had noticed them. When his gaze returned to her again, it was incredulous but appreciative.

"Evening Ms Hyuuga." He murmured, voice barely audible.

She adjusted her domino, feeling a small wave of pleasure slithering down her spine. Well, the captain had certainly taken a liking to her temporary makeover. Now she knew why women were so confident of themselves whenever they were nicely dolled up. As superficial as it was, it definitely gave her a huge confidence boost.

"I don't believe it." He shook his head, gazing into her eyes. "What are you wearing? Contacts?"

"Sh."

Hinata shook her head subtly. He took a step nearer to her as someone pushed into him from behind, closing the gap between their bodies. Heat surged through her, and suddenly, she had forgotten why she was ever cold in the first place.

"It's not like anyone can hear you," He said, lowering his mouth to her ear, jade eyes fixed on a point above her shoulder.

"You never know," She said trying to be nonchalant, her heart speeding up in the process. Glancing around, Hinata murmured, "Brown ones. I had you there for a moment, didn't I?" She smiled and nodded.

Another warm palm landed on her waist to prevent her from being knocked over by a tall pirate. Gaara stared at her quietly for one long moment, his gaze intense.

"You did." He said, his voice taking on a deep baritone, reaching out only to her. "I was prepared to be called up for forgetting your name." He shot her an unabashed grin, hinting at his prolific dating history, and Hinata laughed in exasperation.

She looked the complete opposite of the usual women he'd tended to date previously. Whereas they'd been comfortable in their own skin, blatantly flaunting their endowments and doing the best they could to make sure the reporters noticed them, Hinata looked a little stressed out and skittish, her mind clearly fixed on what she had to do. It was obvious she was not comfortable with the way she looked and the attention she was getting.

She also looked very sweet. And damn, but Hyuuga Hinata was sexy. Like hot damn sweet and sexy all at once, the redhead thought, appraising her with open interest, his gaze running over her curves she had concealed in her modest office attire.

"You look gorgeous." The intensity of his gaze made it all the more sincere than any other exclamation she had heard. He wondered if he'd said it more than once, but what the hell - who cared.

They'd done something to her eyes - lined it with kohl or something, to make it bigger. Soft dark curls hung around her shoulders, the modest top of the dress clinging to her body, skimming her curves deliciously before ending in frothy layers at her feet. He could see the deep curves of her generous breasts and the attractive, outward flare of her hips through the lace and tulle, which automatically triggered a hot wave of attraction that slammed into his gut. So he hadn't had a woman for a long time, but he wasn't about to seriously consider jumping her bones. Not when she was his publicist.

No matter how tempting it was.

And she was turning out to be _very_ tempting.

_Sorry_, he told his body. _This woman's off limits._

Inwardly, he shrugged. He'd been physically attracted to more women than he could count with both his fingers and toes. It was only natural that he would be attracted to her too.

He noted that dark pink splotches were staining her fair cheeks, reminding him that beneath this dark haired beauty was the usual, busy, task-focused Hinata who was prepared to battle this PR nightmare with him. It was just that the combination of her embarrassed demeanour, her dress, and that killer, curvy body beneath it had old John Henry paying attention.

Jesus. He was a horny bastard.

"Thank you." Hinata said softly, her voice holding the slightest tinge of nervousness. Yep. This was Hinata alright. "You don't look too bad yourself. Well," She swallowed and laugh. "You look _very_ good." The inflection on the word 'very' had his mouth tilting up at the corners in a wide grin.

To her ears, his chuckle sounded almost decadent - like rough velvet and crushed chocolate. "Relax." He said, gazing into her eyes. "Nobody knows."

She nodded. The Hyuuga inhaled, drawing in his light, subtle cologne and the smell of his freshly shaved jaw. Unconsciously, she turned her nose closer to him.

_Dear_ _god_, she thought shamefully._ She was actually smelling his jaw!_

A large part of her no longer knew what she was doing, or what she was here for. All that she could think of was how dapper Gaara looked, and how she could sense the tightly leashed masculine power in his hard, athletic body, quiet confidence oozing from every pore of his skin. There was a tinge of defiance and reluctance in the way he held himself, as though he couldn't wait to get out of his suit and into some worn jeans, a comfortable shirt, and lounge in front of the television with a beer can. Ridiculously, it was incredibly mouthwatering.

_You've got to get a grip, girl,_ Hinata warned herself. _He's your charge. Look, but no touching._ She racked her brains for a topic they could talk about, acutely aware of his heavy gaze on her. Her cheeks were practically burning with embarrassment at the heavy attraction she felt for him. She didn't want to probe what the gaze in his eyes meant - it was too intense, too much for her, and feared what she could see in there. Which was ridiculous of course, that she should read so much into it. He was only attracted to her alter ego. Not her. Geez. One moment she had been smelling his jaw, the next they were staring at each other like heated animals.

Which they _still_ were, she realised, unable to break the gaze as jade eyes fused to hers, something dark and heavy unfurling within those brilliant orbs.

"There's really a crush here, i-isn't there?" She stuttered rhetorically, attempting to break the heavy silence. She looked around, well aware that her breasts were brushing against his chest as she moved. The air around them sizzled with something thick and sensuous, the source of which she couldn't identify. Perhaps it was the idea of everyone being masked, the freedom to do whatever you wanted under a guise and the ability to get away with it.

"Yeah." He said, jade eyes dropping to her soft, coral mouth for just one second too long.

"D'you want to take a breather?" Gaara jerked his head toward the open doors of the balcony that led to stone white balustrades overlooking busy intersections of the city. Personally, he wasn't much for these dress up parties that Jiraiya threw with so much fervour - usually, he stood around and talked with the guys, Jiraiya, the hockey team's management and sponsors. Either that, or hightail back home with the woman of the day.

This year, he had barely weaselled out of the whole attire thing. It was getting ridiculous, and he wondered if the unconventional white haired owner merely wanted a kick out of seeing everyone blindly following a stupid party's theme even though he would eventually let them in, outfit or no.

"Sure, let's." Hinata pinched the fabric of her gown, lifting the hem as Gaara placed one big hand on the small of her back, touching her lightly. It was a small gesture but it had Hinata's stomach doing gleeful leaps and dives.

_Steady girl. Your stomach does that every time a really hot man steps near you (which isn't often, by the way). Not just Gaara, _she reassured herself. In fact, there were many attractive men who were glancing her way now and then. It was a heady feeling, that, and it gave her much needed confidence for the moment, but it wasn't so much their attention that had sent her into a delightful frenzy - it was Gaara.

Straightening her spine, Hinata followed the redhead as he steered her to the edge of the ballroom. The man was causing a ripple of interest wherever he moved - people moving forward to wish the captain luck, scantily-clad women ogling him and smiling at him flirtatiously even in her presence, (some of which he nodded to them brusquely) as well as tonnes of other people - sponsors, management. It was a reminder of how different she was from Gaara.

_Everyone_ knew who he was, all eager to have a piece of him and to talk to him about this, what he thought of that and how he would like to continue endorsing them. They barely paid attention to her, assuming she was another one of his conquests (which she probably was in this case).

Superficially, all the attention he was garnering was a flattering sign - a good sign for his and the Hawks' publicity. Yet, she couldn't help but feel how tiring it was to have to deal with the constant sense of awe, admiration and envv from people, people who only saw the talented rugby player and captain of the Sand Hawks, but didn't know how he'd risen to where he was today, or his personal struggles as a little boy. She wondered how he had been as a little boy. No doubt handsome and playful.

Hinata slid a glance to the hard planes of his handsome face discreetly, watching as he paused to exchange greetings with several people, recognising the polite yet impersonal way he, like so many other people in the limelight, dealt with questions. He was going through the motions, not so much enjoying it. This was his job, whereas rugby was less of a job and more of a love.

It was also his job to hold her, she realised a little sadly. At some point his hand had slid to her waist, where it rested comfortably in the indent of her hips, his hard body pressing lightly against hers as the crush of people surged and pushed them more closely together.

From her peripheral vision, Hinata saw a reporter busy snapping away at them with his camera as Gaara cutting his way through the crowd with an easy, athletic grace.

Yup, throw them off, she thought. Make them think that he had a serious girlfriend.

After the Oakley sponsor whom Gaara was speaking to moved away, the redhead was about to bring Hinata to a quiet balcony that overlooked the busy streets of the city when a tall, beautiful blond and a dark haired man stepped up to them, their gazes intent on Gaara. Hinata felt, rather than saw, the redhead stiffening beside her, the tension cloaking his body in an almost palpable coat as the trio locked eyes with one another.

Hell. It was unnerving how ridiculously good looking all three of them looked.

The blond was wearing a silver gown, her soft, sandy blond hair falling around her fine featured face in short, soft curls, lashed eyes a unique shade of teal. It wasn't so much her eye colour that grabbed at Hinata's attention - it was the fact that she looked so darn familiar. Yet, Hinata was pretty sure she would have remembered such a woman if she'd met her before. She carried herself with the sort of confidence and athletic grace that even the elegant gown couldn't conceal, and a man would think thrice before he even used the words 'dumb blond' on her. Both first two qualities Hinata herself longed to possess, she noted wryly, but sorely lacked in person. The words 'dumpy', 'large hips' and 'saggy boobs' were synonymous with her name - not gorgeous or athletic or elegant.

The tall man beside the blond woman spoke up, his voice low, gaze intent and determined. He had dark eyes and a strong jaw, with light, uneven highlights in his dark hair that betrayed how much time he'd spent in the sun. "Gaara."

"What do you want?" The redhead asked brusquely, his shoulders tensing eyes turning to stormy chips of seafoam. Hinata touched his elbow lightly, in a reminder that they were in public, but he paid her no heed as she had expected.

Why was he so riled up?

The blond's eyes flickered to Hinata's fingers on Gaara's elbow before returning her gaze to Gaara, an unreadable expression in her eyes.

"If we're going to have a _family_ _reunion_," Gaara added in a sarcastic tone, "Let's do it somewhere private."

The darkhaired man exhaled and gestured with one palm, expression blank. His posture was relaxed, but there was an alertness in his eyes, as though he was looking out for something. "Lead the way."

Hinata glanced at Gaara swiftly, deliberately trying to look expressionless, but her heart leaped and thudded as a little voice whispered the truth to her. She glanced back, carefully at the man and the lady, scrutinising their features: that strong chin...those eyes... the way both men gestured swiftly...

They were his _half_-_siblings._ The ones he had just spoken of mere days ago.

"Yes, let's," The blond said, her strong voice tempered evenly, sounding nothing like a spoilt brat he had reckoned them to be. "However it's a private matter and," She glanced at Hinata, a tinge of annoyance in her eyes. "We would like to discuss it between the three of us."

"She comes with me." Gaara retorted.

_Oh yes. _She had to go with him.

The woman's forehead creased, and she nodded. "If you insist, Gaara."

At that precise moment, a waitress with blond hair and a white domino stepped into their path gracefully.

"Would you like a drink?"

"No thank you," Hinata said politely as she smiled, waiting for the waitress to let them through, well aware that Gaara and his half siblings were staring down at her.

"I insist you have a drink, you bitch." The waitress replied, her pleasant voice switching to one that was hard and brittle with anger. Within the next second, she had picked up a glass of wine on the black tray and hurled it at Hinata's front, the beverage slipping down the Hyuuga's chest in tiny rivulets. Hinata gasped, feeling the stark coldness of the liquid seeping through the thin material of her gown, plastering the material to her chest in an indecent manner. Shock and bewilderment riled through Hinata as her hands opened at her sides. The Hyuuga glanced down quickly to survey the damage, her cheeks burning.

Who was she?

The darkhaired man beside Gaara moved to step forward, but Gaara himself had already blocked him.

"What the fuck?" The redhead growled, his voice edged with anger, eyes snapping with fire as he stepped closer to the waitress, blocking her path of escape with his large body. "Why did you do that to her?"

"Gaara," Hinata said urgently, tugging at his arm, trying to get him to calm down. People around them were gradually stepping away from them slightly, glancing over at them as they took in the empty wine glass and Hinata's stained dress. There were audible murmurs here and there despite the music as hands reached up to cover their mouths, heavily made eyes widening in surprise at the little furore that had started. A group of people were starting to form around them. There were no reporters yet, no clicking of cameras, but Hinata knew they could descend like flies to a picnic spread any second now.

The waitress ripped off her white domino, hatred shining in her large, green eyes, her smooth, creamy cheeks high in colour. Something rolled in Hinata's gut, her stomach plummeting as she realised that Miraimi Yui stood before them, one hand gripping the now empty wine glass in her hand, as though ready to use it as a weapon. She turned to Gaara, and those pretty green eyes softened immediately, her lower lip trembling at the sight of him. Even in a waitress's uniform, Miraimi Yui still looked gorgeous, her silky hair slicked back in a simple bun, several short tendrils falling free of the tight hold.

"Gaara, I am carrying your child," She pleaded, stepping forward to the redhead.

This was a huge nightmare. Gaara was being confronted by his siblings _and_ by Miraimi Yui at the same time. The entire thing would blow up, the paps would have a field day with this, she thought, sweat beading on her forehead and behind her dress. Hinata stole a quick glance around the crowd, trying to search for Jiraiya, but to no avail. Kurenai was resting at home since Jiraiya had told her to take a break and spend some time with her husband on the day of the party. The white haired man was probably entertaining several guests.

"Believe me, I would know if you were really carrying my child." The redhead ground out, not budging as she advanced toward him. A quick glance at the rugby player's hard jaw told Hinata that he was going to thrash everything out, here and now, in front of all heedless of PR responsibilities or image. His broad shoulders were tensed, his body coiled with tenseness that his body's relaxed posture did not betray. It was then that Hinata realised how he was shielding her from Miraimi, and that some part of his brain was already prepared for any quick movements that Miraimi might pull around them.

Nevertheless, she was in with him on this. Hinata sidled up to him subtly, noting that the band had somehow stopped playing, and that an even larger crowd had gathered around them. The actual ballroom lights came on and the strobe lights stopped their reckless swerving. There was movement to Hinata's left - it seemed Gaara's half siblings had moved forward protectively, as if trying to shield Gaara from the intrusive gazes of others.

She touched his half-sister's elbow lightly and murmured urgently. "I am Hyuuga Hinata, PR rep for Gaara." It was bad timing to get her name now, but if Hinata needed help, she needed to know their names.

The blond blinked in surprise, glancing back at the waitress, then to Hinata. Her forehead creased, but she recovered quickly, her eyes expectant.

"Furyoku Temari and Kankurou." She gestured subtly to the man standing beside her. He looked down at her with curious anticipation.

"I'm sorry we have to meet like this," Hinata said quickly. "Perhaps-"

"No problem." Temari said, glancing warily at the waitress, comprehending the situation without even needing an explanation. "We read the news on a daily basis. We understand."

"We aren't leaving yet." Kankurou grinned dryly before glancing at the blond waitress, but it faded at the sound of Gaara's deep voice.

"I did not sleep with you. Nor did I get you pregnant." The redhead said steadily, voice clear and strong, intense gaze meeting Miraimi's across the small space that separated them. He moved forward cautiously.

"No! No!"

Suddenly, the blond hurled the wine glass on the floor, sending sparkling shards of glass flying through the air as tinkling rented the air. Hinata winced and turned away quickly as several shrieks and loud gasps bounced around the room. She heard Gaara's half-sister curse softly as the duo turned to duck and the crowd shrieked. Someone actually yelled, "Oh my god! What the hell!"

"Are you hurt?" Warm hands gripped her forearms as jade eyes scanned over her body swiftly to detect if she had sustained any cuts, burning with anger.

"No." She shook her head quickly. "I'll call the-"

"Do it." He said as a muscle ticked in his jaw. Turning to his siblings, he fixed them with a hard stare. "I'm a little busy. Leave now."

"Not yet." Kankurou countered. "We're helping you with this." He jerked his head, tucking in his chin as Miraimi picked up a large shard of glass and held it at her neck, her shoulders shaking, her eyes pleading. A pang of sympathy zinged through Hinata's heart as she saw the dark rings of circles beneath those beautiful eyes and the haggardness of the young woman's petite frame, her eyes only intent on Gaara.

Well, she thought silently, Miraimi had come looking for Gaara. There was no greater test than this for the rugby player.

It was an interesting situation, one she, nor her client, had never been put in before. The redhead's face went granite hard, his stare unflinching and unwavering as he assessed Miraimi Yui, gaze sharp and alert. Instinctively, Hinata knew what he was thinking of and cringed inwardly.

His mother had tried to take her own life too. This was not going to help.

"You are," The blond sobbed, her voice soft and straining. "You _are_ the father goddamnit. Why don't you just admit it? I love you," She whispered, scrubbing her eyes with her other hand. She looked lost and weary.

"I want only you," She hiccuped. "There will be no other men, please Gaara. Leave her, and come with me. I have your child." She glanced hatefully at Hinata once before her gaze returned to his, softening.

"Drop the glass Miraimi." Gaara stepped forward boldly, his arms loose by his side, gaze fixed on the woman as several people gasped. A camera flash, and then two, went off. Hinata gritted her teeth as more flashes started firing off. She could see some of the PR team blocking the shots, attempting to get the photographers to move back.

"Drop the glass."

The Hyuuga turned and ducked behind Kankurou as she made a quick, inconspicuous call to the police and the ambulance, explaining the situation briefly and giving the address of the hotel, before slipping the cell phone back into her purse.

"What the hell's going on here?" Jiraiya suddenly bellowed, elbowing his way to the front, his voice carrying loud and clear across the room with the lack of music. His dark eyes widened considerably as he took in the scenario. "My god!" He exclaimed as he caught sight of them.

Gaara shook his head at Jiraiya curtly. Miraimi backed away from him and scooted closer to Gaara, her eyes only flicking once to the white haired man before going back to the redhead again. The hand gripping the glass shard shook and trembled, scoring the tender flesh at her neck. "Stay away from me. All of you!"

"If you harm yourself," Gaara stated simply, "There will be no baby, do you understand?"

"Please, put the shard down," Hinata said, one hand reaching out in a placating gesture even as sweat beaded on her forehead. "Spare a thought for the child. You can talk this over with Gaara if you put the shard down. He can go for a prenatal paternity test, if you wish, and the both of you can verify the baby's father."

Miraimi stared at Hinata through red-rimmed eyes, her nose and cheeks sporting splotchy patches of red, her jaw trembling. Apparently, she hadn't realised that Gaara's arm candy would even speak to her in such tones or even offer practical advice.

"You- you - stole him you bitch," She burst into tears, her hand lowering a fraction -

Before she could even open her mouth, the redhead had moved forward, swiftly knocking Miraimi's wrist with one hand as he gripped her other hand. There were screams of horror and gasps from the people who had left a wide berth around them.

The shard didn't fall out of Miraimi's hand as Gaara had intended to. Instead, the blond clenched it and wailed shrilly, brandishing it madly as the redhead locked her wrist. It was a glinting blur, slashing this way and that even as Gaara twisted her slender wrist and angled it down, near her thighs. She screamed, her head shaking, blond tendrils flying, but Hinata saw that she still retained her stubborn grip on the large piece of wine glass, angled dangerously close to Gaara's thigh. She only needed to move her hand an inch to stab him.

Instinctively (and Hinata reflected later, foolishly), the Hyuuga grasped the shiny shard Miraimi Yui held and managed to close her palm around it. Sudden pain lanced through her as Miraimi attempted to flick her wrist the other way, her grip still unrelenting on the improvised weapon. The glass cut into Hinata's palm nicely. Crimson, thick, liquid oozed slowly onto the surface of her skin, making the glass slippery with her blood. Suppressing her pain, Hinata swiftly executed a chop to Miraimi's wrist Neji had taught her with her other hand. She shrieked and finally released the shard.

Relief surged through her as the stewardess's grip loosened completely and Hinata broke free with the large shard. Immediately dropping it to the ground, the Hyuuga turned over her hand quickly, unwilling to look at the cut. She wasn't about to faint, but neither did she want to see blood oozing from her palm.

Oh, everything was a bloody mess. Her heart pounding, Hinata glanced over at Gaara quickly, the world a blur of colours. She assessed the situation with an alertness brought on by the immense adrenaline rush still surging through her veins, her eyes blinking as it took in the sudden vivid brightness of his hair and his eyes. The redhead had sunk to the ground on his knees with the blond in his arms, her other arm locked in a deadly grip behind her back with his thick forearm. Gaara's long fingers were circling the slender column of her other wrist tightly even as she struggled futilely against his broad chest, twisting this way and that like a wriggling eel.

"Mirami," Gaara growled. "Goddamnit, don't move."

The crowd gave a loud_ 'Oh'_ and started surging forward. It seemed as though they felt that Gaara had made the entire situation safe.

"You're bleeding badly," Temari exclaimed, taking her hands in hers. The blond had hurried up to her side with Kankurou, who immediately went to Gaara,

"Don't worry." Hinata assured her as they looked to the duo on the floor. What a mess this night had been, she thought anxiously. Around them, everyone had erupted in a chaotic frenzy as Jiraiya bellowed for order. Reporters jostled for attention, people swarmed around them, trying to see what was happening and fired questions left, right and centre. Camera flashes went off, accompanied by rapid fire clicks from the DSLRs.

Hinata and Temari hurried to Gaara, dodging people along the way. Miraimi Yui was sobbing in despair, her face buried in Gaara's broad chest, wailing and clinging to him tightly as blond tendrils stucked to her wet and red face. "Don't leave me," she begged in watery sniffs, nose splotchy, eyes welling with unshed tears "Please Gaara."

Hinata came to kneel beside Gaara quickly, one light hand on his shoulder. He looked up at her from Miraimi Yui, his mouth set in a grim line, jade eyes looking incredibly pissed off as he took in the cut on her palm and Kankurou and Temari's anxious faces. Swearing softly, he murmured, "Jesus, you're bleeding."

Despite the mutinous expression on his face and the creasing of his forehead, the redhead still held Miraimi in his arms, his grip ever tight, intent on making sure she didn't reach for any glass pieces.

"Nevermind that," Hinata shook her head and squeezed his shoulder reassuringly as Temari and Kankurou fought back the crowd with loud cries of "Please give them space, back off now!"

"The reporters are swarming around," She added quickly as the volume level rose to a fever pitch and people started moving rapidly around them, wanting to get a glimpse and a shot of the furore.

"We best leave, before they try and block your way. The ambulance is already on its way."

He nodded. Their gazes turned to the front as the sea of people divided to allow a small space between the crowd.

"Move aside!" Jiraiya was bellowing. "Move aside! _Back, all of you!_ Paramedics coming through! Back away and stop _shooting_ goddamnit!"

The white-haired man, clad in a black tuxedo, was followed by four paramedics wheeling an orange Stryker stretcher and various medical kits.

Hinata watched anxiously as Gaara stood and placed Miraimi on the stretcher, the blond's manicured fingernails digging into his shirt, obviously reluctant to let him go. A muscle ticked in his jaw, but he didn't say anything as the paramedics pried her fingers away from him. The redhead turned away the moment they'd wheeled Miraimi away and addressed one of the paramedics who hurried forward to Hinata.

"It's just a cut," She explained to the paramedic as a heavy weight pressed on her shoulders, an intoxicating combination of warmth and a wonderful masculine scent surrounding her. He had draped his blazer across her shoulders, the dark, wide sleeves brushing at her hips, too broad and long for her.

"A pretty deep one," The paramedic countered back with a gentle smile. "Come with me, please, ma'am. Let's get your hand wrapped up."

"But I have-"

"_Go_." Hinata felt one warm hand on her elbow, the other on the small of her back. The next thing she knew, she was being propelled forward by Gaara. "Go on," He said, looking down at her hand, his forehead creasing as she held a piece of cotton swab the paramedic had given her over the wound. "I won't have you bleeding to death."

"I won't bleed to-"

"I'll see you at the _hospital_."

"Don't talk to any reporters," She murmured. "Until I'm with you. Not that we are going to," She said, gazing at the exhausted lines on his face.

Gaara exhaled. "Yes, ma'am," He said dryly. And then before the paramedic brought her away, he tilted his head toward hers, his gaze intense and sincere. "Thank you."

Hinata blushed.

* * *

><p>A good two hours later, Gaara found Hinata within one of the curtained cubicles in the Accident &amp; Emergency department, her pale hand nicely bandaged and the rest of his publicist otherwise unhurt.<p>

"Hello," She said, swinging her legs off the small bed with her uninjured hand, still ever restless and unable to rest. She was also wearing his blazer over her wine-stained dress, the crumpled lace domino peeking out from one of his pockets.

"Let me see it."

He grasped her hand gently and angled his head over it, inspecting the neat bandage. White strips ran across her palm, looping between her index finger and thumb before wrapping round the back of her hand and ending at her small palm again. Hinata's hand felt too cold in his own larger palm, the skin almost icy frost. "Does it hurt?"

She smiled and shook her head. "Well it did, but not now. I must say, it was worth it," She chuckled slightly, but stopped when his jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed.

"It was not. You could have gotten _stabbed_, damn it,"

"_You_ were going to get stabbed in the _thigh_," Hinata said. "I saw the shard-"

"I can recover from that," He retorted, and she noticed with a slight breathlessness that he was still holding her hand in his. "I get jumped on, punched, pushed and hit as part of my profession. I can deal with it. Whereas for _you,_" He glared at her. "You should have stayed away."

"That's not the same as being stabbed," Hinata blinked, surprised at her own courage. "And stay away and let you handle it by yourself? I'm your publicist, I'm supposed to help _you_ out, Gaara, not stand there and twiddle my thumbs while you unarm her. It's just a cut. If it were your thigh, it would have been worst. You'd probably waste time recuperating than training, and heaven knows if you can run properly-"

"Your stutter's gone." He interrupted her, jade eyes alert, looking mighty curious.

"What's - " She swallowed. "What's this got to do w-with your thigh?"

He looked like he wanted to grin but his attractive mouth retained that firm line. "It's back."

"It's got nothing t-to do with the situation!"

"You're angry."

"Well _done _you_._"

He blinked, eyes dilating a mere fraction. "My god." He said, voice husky and low, looking as though he was a pirate who'd discovered a secret stash of loot, a sexy grin curling his lips. "You've got a little bit of a spitfire in you, Hina."

"I do not. And," She said, inhaling, a little caught off by how he'd called her 'Hina', "Don't divert from the topic."

"Okay." He opened his palms in a surrendering sign before crossing his arms. The redhead shrugged, looking as though he was placating a kid, which unnerved Hinata as much as the way his impressive biceps were straining against the material of his white dress shirt.

_Stop staring, you twerp, _she scolded herself mentally.

"Have you ever thought what sort of man I am, if I have to be protected like some fragile glass, by a woman no less?" He asked.

"It's okay for a woman to protect you sometimes," She replied indignantly. "I was just helping you with the situation that you had just now and you want to argue - oh, nevermind," She huffed as his mouth tilted in another sexy smile complete with that dimple. She was rambling.

"It's not funny." She said, even though he wasn't laughing. "Can't a woman save a man?"

"Let's save the debate on gender equality for another time," He said, then glanced down at the hand he held in his palm again, as though registering something.

Her heart thudded in anticipation._ Was he going to let go?_

"Why are your hands so cold?" The redhead suddenly growled as his forehead furrowed and rubbed the back of her injured hand gently with his other warm palm, the motion triggering a delicious shiver that ran down her spine. Then to her shock, he stepped between her thighs and took both her hands gently between his large, callused palms, mindful of her injury. "So is this hand. Jesus, you're _freezing_. Did you just stuck your hand in a freezer?"

"I-it's just the way I am," She replied carefully, her heart almost banging against her ribcage as heat suffused her cheeks, making them turn bright pink. Jesus. _Sabaku Gaara_ was holding her hands, warming them up. And boy, was he oh so very _warm_.

What was _wrong_ with her? This was way too surreal. She was getting her _hands_ warmed when a crisis had exploded hours ago? There was no time for hand-rubbing or cute moments or little fights.

"My hands get cold easily. I'm used to it," She said clearing her throat, pulling away her hands and attempting to stop _his_ hands with her own ones. This effectively stopped his motions but Hinata hadn't counted on her fingers falling unwittingly between the spaces of his own fingers. Their hands clasped, palms resting against one another intimately.

Uh. This definitely wasn't part of the plan!

Her eyes flew to his, which turned out to be another bad idea. She found that she couldn't tear her eyes away from those fiery depths of jade that burned with something thick, hot and bright as it took on a new glint with an expression she couldn't decipher. Her traitorous mind pointed out to her that his thick, hard chest was rising and falling gently, the lines of his face suddenly tensing with a new awareness that coursed through her own body.

She suddenly understood why so many women had been enamoured with him, why magazine after magazine were fawning over him most of the time.

He commanded space, he commanded attention, but right now, it was all devoted to her and only to her. Many women must have felt the same way.

Well, it was either fight or flight. Since she was a coward, it would have to be flight.

In the form of distraction.

"How is Miraimi Yui?" She asked quickly, pulling her hands away. The entire furore had her questioning if Gaara really _wasn't_ the father... then again... if he truly was, wouldn't he have tried to avoid a confrontation?

To be honest, Hinata had seen her fair share of men who, while physically, looked intimidating as hell, but changed tactics when it was time to 'fess up. They had that guilty look in their eyes, that slouched posture or that irritated and reluctant expression, or a face that plain said they couldn't be bothered at all. Yet Gaara clearly had none of those - he looked enraged yes, but there was a deadly calm about him when he'd handled Miraimi Yui. For some reason, a pang of disappointment echoed through her at the thought that he really was the father of the child.

Hinata shook her head. Innocent until proven guilty. She really didn't know who to trust.

Slowly, the redhead pocketed his hands and spoke.

"She's been warded, with a cop posted to her room. Apparently, she's been placed under 24-hour guard duty. Docs said she showed suicidal tendencies," He bit the inside of his cheek and leaned beside her, his rear half perched on the bed. "They're still doing checks on her, but the baby's fine."

"I see." Thank goodness the baby was safe.

The curtains next to Gaara shifted, the folds moving aside to accept Jiraiya's bulk, providing much needed distraction. Hinata almost sighed with relief as he strode in and pushed away the remaining curtains. At least someone was there to diffuse the..._tension_ that hung over them mere moments ago.

"How are you doing?" He asked, gaze going straight to Hinata as his bright gaze took in the bandaged hand.

"Just a cut," Hinata held it up for him to see, embarrassed that a man of such a position would be visiting _her_. "Nothing major, Jiraiya-san. It will heal in a couple of days." The nurse had also said that she should minimise the use of her right hand and that she shouldn't have contact with water while it was bandaged - a pity, since her right hand was her dominant hand. It was inconvenient to have her hand in this state just when things needed her attention. Nevertheless, she would survive.

"Nothing major indeed." The owner of Sand Hawks grinned and shook his head. "Pretty bold of you to have grabbed that shard, Hinata."

"It was going for his _thigh_." Hinata added meaningfully, casting a glance at Gaara, who scowled heavily.

"I told her she could have gotten _stabbed_. She should have been far away from me."

"And you," Jiraiya said, as though just realising that his captain was in the room. "Lunging for Miraimi like that. No wonder the Internet's going crazy over the both of you."

"What do you mean going '_crazy_'?" Hinata's spine stiffened. Uh-oh. That didn't sound very good.

"News of what happened at the pre-game party's spreading like wildfire on the internet and various social media platforms. They thought Gaara was something to have taken it upon himself to subdue Miraimi." At the redhead's blank look, Jiraiya gestured with large hands. "Y'know, they expected Gaara to call for security and let them handle her like any major sports celebrity would do, but of course, our man of the moment actually calmed her down and carried her onto the stretcher himself. The netizens are pretty impressed by your behaviour and Hinata's too. Kept sayin' what a man Gaara was. Hashtag Gaara and you get a whole list of all the tweets and posts." He grinned sombrely, then his voice dropped into a conspiratorial whisper as he leaned toward Hinata. "They call you the mystery girl of course. Got no idea who you are at all." Jiraiya's dark eyes creased. "I must say, this has garnered a fair bit of news about the both of you. But the question remains," Jiraiya added meaningfully, pocketing his hands before looking pointedly at Gaara. "Is the child yours?"

"I am not, goddamn it. I'm taking a prenatal paternity test, as Hinata suggested earlier." Gaara stated, gritting his teeth. "Bloody hell, if that's the only way to clear my name, I'll do it. I've got nothing to lose. Miraimi's mental condition is far weaker than we thought. _She_ needs help pronto. If not for her, for the baby too."

Hinata nodded. She could believe him. "She seems very taken with Gaara. But..." She hesitated and looked into his face. "Innocent until proven guilty."

He shrugged and gazed at her intently.

Jiraiya sighed and scratched his jaw.

"It's best to prepare a statement soon, to clear up what happened at the hotel." Hinata said gently to Gaara and Jiraiya. "Or the both of you'll be hounded by the press on a daily basis after this."

Jiraiya nodded. "As we're speaking, they're waiting for us outside the hospital. The hospital's management had to call in reinforcements, can you believe it?" He jabbed a thumb over one broad shoulder before crossing his arms. Looking slightly wary, Jiraiya turned to Gaara. "Why don't you move into your house on Dente Street? It's got more security than your apartment-"

Something slid over his features. "No." The redhead bit out.

"Don't say I didn't warn you, Sabaku. This time, the paps really want to talk to you. They're not letting you go without you saying something. It'll take a motorcade to barrel through what you have outside," He surveyed Gaara beneath white brows, dark eyes dim and tired. Exhausted lines pulled at his eyes and mouth, his dress shirt crumpled at the shoulders and sleeves, where it had been rolled up to show his thick forearms. Jiraiya must have had a hard time placating the media, Hinata thought sympathetically. Not a surprise, considering what had happened. Any journalist worth his/her salt would pounce on such a situation at once, if it happened right in front of their noses, especially when the media had been invited in such an instance.

"Jiraiya's suggestion is a good idea," Hinata said to the redhead, her white eyes meeting his gaze. "At least it affords you more privacy during this period. Not many know about your home. Even if they did, it would be safer for you than your own apartment."

"I'll think about it," Gaara said brusquely, in a tone that told them he didn't even want to think about it. The redhead moved past Jiraiya to assist Hinata as she slid down from the bed.

"Thanks." Hinata glanced at him again, only to realise that his handsome face had taken on that same, stormy expression earlier when he first saw Temari and Kankurou. The duo rose quickly from the blue plastic chairs set before the little cubicle, still clad in their evening wear. A few patients were gawking at the elegant sight the siblings made. Hinata glanced down at herself. Yuck. Her hair was probably mussed, her dress wrinkled. She probably looked like hell.

"Hello," Temari said, stepping forward quickly. "Gaara, Hinata." She acknowledged in a pleasant but low voice, teal eyes meeting Hinata's in a wry smile. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, thank you very much," Hinata smiled, reality hitting her straight in the forehead. Holy hell. This was Gaara's _half siblings. _Glancing meaningfully at Jiraiya, she noticed that the older man seemed curious and completely unaware of their ties to his redheaded captain.

"What do you want?" The redhead asked coolly, his voice tinged with hardness. Hinata laid one hand on his forearm in a silent warning, just as Jiraiya shot him an incredulous look. Kami, he was as grumpy as a bear.

"We want to talk to you," Kankurou said heavily, looking as exhausted as Jiraiya did, if not more. His simple request, coupled with that dishevelled dark hair, was at odds with the supposed wealthier, haughty half-siblings Gaara had. "But it seems we've got pretty bad timing, Temari and I." He gestured at Hinata.

Gaara grunted.

"Perhaps we can have a good talk when this matter's been thrashed out." Temari added carefully, her teal eyes taking in Gaara's dishevelled form. Clearly, Hinata and Jiraiya didn't need a further explanation on what _this_ meant.

Jiraiya cleared his throat, stepping into the circle as his brows knitted together. "Ms Furyoku? Am I missing something here?" He looked as though they had been speaking in an alien language, forehead creased in bewilderment.

"Mr Seiji," Temari said politely, stepping forward, the businesswoman in her coming to the fore. She shook hands with the white haired man and grinned. "Thank you for inviting us to your party. It was an... eye-opener."

"You don't say," He said dryly with a grin.

She swallowed a smile. "Our aim in coming to Highwynne City was to find our half-brother," She locked her fingers together and glanced at Gaara, who remained expressionless.

Jiraiya glanced at him meaningfully, eyebrows raising. Hinata could see questions ricocheting off in his head like rampant fireworks on New Year's Day.

"Gaara is your..."

"Younger brother yes." Kankurou finished quietly.

"Don't _fucking _say that." He snarled. Jiraiya's brows clashed together again.

"Gaara," Hinata said, gripping his arm. His eyes held a sea of turbulent emotions, his cheeks high in colour, jade eyes vivid against his tanned skin.

"Our father passed away." Temari murmured. "And we thought Gaara had a right to know."

The Hawks' owner nodded sombrely. "I'd heard about that. My condolences once again."

"My deepest condolences," Hinata murmured, feeling Gaara tense beneath her fingers. She could almost feel his growing rage and the silent calm before the storm beneath his skin. Temari nodded at her, a silent murmur of thanks escaping her lips. Kankurou however, stood staring at Gaara, his dark eyes reflective. The redhead stood rigidly next to Hinata in his rolled up sleeves, gripping his black wallet and car keys in a death grip, face devoid of any expression. The only emotion that betrayed him was his clenched jaw. She gazed at him, silently reaching out to him, but to no avail - he looked as though he was frozen in time.

The redhead's gaze swivelled to Kankurou.

"Thank you for the information." His voice was smooth and hard, wiped free of feelings or emotions. One hand slipped to the small of her back in a surprisingly protective gesture, applying light pressure there.

"Let's go."

Jiraiya cleared his throat, and licked his lips, well aware of the tension that had settled over them.

"Take my card before you leave." Temari interjected to Hinata. A pristine, white card was handed to her, bearing the logo of the Furyoku company. Smart move, considering the fact that Gaara was less inclined to accept it. She gazed at Hinata, a silent message in her beautiful eyes. _I'll contact you soon._

"Thank you," Hinata accepted it and like Jiraiya, pulled out her own namecard, offering it to Temari and Kankurou.

"Let's _go_." Gaara growled, the moment the cards had been exchanged.

"Thank you very much for your help today." Hinata said, nodding and shaking hands with the duo. Gaara's hand remained on her back, the other clenched next to him. "Indeed." Jiraiya added. "I apologize for this. Fancy having to get you to rush down here when it was a party you two were supposed to be at."

"No worries at all, Mr Seiji. We will arrange a date to meet." Kankurou stated, his voice gruff. Temari nodded, locking her hands together.

The redhead levelled a stare at him. "Unnecessary."

"It's been a long night," Hinata said quickly, stepping between the two men, their hard gazes bouncing off each other like bullets. "We will discuss this at a better timing."

"There is _nothing_ to -"

"Let's go, Gaara," She interrupted, placing a hand on Gaara's bicep and trying to push him in the direction of the Exit sign. Considering the fact that it was like pushing a brick wall, and her fingers had barely wrapped around the width his rock hard bicep, her attempts were proving rather futile. Hinata ignored the blush creeping up her cheeks. She schooled her features into one not unlike a school teacher might have adopted with her student, and said firmly to him, "Let's go. You've had a long night today. Come on."

Kankurou's jaw ticked and he nodded at them, ignoring Gaara. "We'll take our leave too."

"You're going to need security." Jiraiya called out. Four security guards ambled up to the Furyoku siblings, wearing black vests strapped over blue shirts.

"Ma'am, this way please," One of them said, tugging on his moustache. To their surprise, Temari didn't follow obligingly. "Are you kidding?" she asked incredulously, her eyes wide. "_We_ need them too?"

"Security for those involved in the fracas." Jiraiya said, rocking on his heels. "Like I said, you need a motorcade to barrel through the media scrum." He tried to grin at the pun but the atmosphere was too tense for any laughter.

The moment the Furyoku siblings left, the three of them headed for the lifts with four more security guards, where it would take them to the carpark. Gaara had arrived at the hotel by his own car, after which he'd driven it to the hospital.

"I'm sending Hinata home." He said shortly, as Hinata struggled to keep up with his long strides.

"Sure," Jiraiya said glancing around, fishing out his own car keys. "Make sure she steps through her own door."

The gaggle of people waiting outside at the entrance to the basement carpark was not what Hinata had expected or imagined. It was more like a mob with at least eighty people, all of whom seemed to be bearing down on them with flashing cameras, video recorders and microphones. Everywhere she glimpsed, light flashed, wires looped and shutters snapped and reopened. Bright spots popped before her, blocking her view of the carpark as people shouted a myriad of questions at them, lost in the jumble of noise.

"Split." Gaara said to Jiraiya, who nodded at once.

"Be careful, the both of you. I'll see you tomorrow morning."

"Make way!" One of the guards accompanying Hinata and Gaara roared. Hinata felt the redhead sliding his arm around her waist securely, bringing her closer to his body.

"Ready?" He murmured in her ear, warm lips almost touching the rim. "For?" She asked, her eyes widening.

"Just follow me." Without preamble, he tightened his hold on her waist and barrelled through the crowd swiftly, more effectively than the guards themselves. All Hinata could see were her heels, clacking across the rough, gravelly pavement and Gaara's shoes following her momentum. His big, warm body shielded her from the cameras as he steered her toward a black Chevy Tahoe sitting in a lot. The car beeped obediently, headlights blinking once as the car unlocked itself.

"Sabaku, is she your new girlfriend?"

"How is Miraimi Yui doing?"

"How are you feeling?!"

"Yeah! How are you feeling, Captain? Any comments?"

"How is this going to affect your relationship with your new girlfriend?"

"Get in." He said to Hinata, unlocking the door. Hinata scrambled into the dark interior breathlessly, heedless of her hand, wanting to get away from the flashing cameras and microphones being shoved in her face. Several photographers jumped before Gaara, obstructing the closure of the door on Hinata's side.

So this was what it was like for Gaara, she thought frantically as she tried to help the redhead shut the door.

"_Fucking_ move aside." He snarled to several reporters who had wedged themselves near his car. She tried not to gasp, but she supposed letting a swear word or two slip in the current situation they were in was reasonable. The man had been through enough tonight - he needed to let off some steam. Several of the journalists leapt back warily as Gaara slammed the door shut, moving swiftly around the front of the car. The reporters and photographers followed him, pursuing him with wires, cameras and flashes.

With difficulty, Gaara slid into the car and shut the door, barely missing the lens of a photographer. He started the engine and pulled on his seat belt with hard, jerky moves. One tanned hand slammed down over the horn and he pressed it thrice, moving his Chevy forward stubbornly, eyes snapping with fire and irritation as a muscle ticked in his neck impatiently.

It was ridiculous, but in anger, his rugged features were even more pronounced. Damn, the man was _hot_ even when he was angry.

"Be careful," Hinata murmured, wondering if the gentle warning was more for herself than Gaara.

"They should know better than to stand in front of a moving vehicle," He growled, sounding frustrated. "Damn it. I'm sorely tempted to run them over."

"Easy," Hinata said, laying one hand on his forearm. "Easy. Don't worry. We'll get out."

They got out after fifteen minutes of inching forward and honking, the security guards yelling as they formed a protective circle against the reporters. Hinata kept her head down all the while despite the fact that the Chevy's windows were tinted in black.

The moment they hit the highway, she heard the redhead inhale and exhale, the reality of what she'd been through hitting her at full force.

Wow. She had _never_ ever been hounded like that. Girls like _her_ didn't get hounded this way, or snapped at so much. Uh-uh. Then again, girls like her had never been seen in the company of men like Gaara. For a moment, panic stole over her as she realised that the paparazzi been far closer to her just now when she didn't have her lace domino on to conceal her face.

_Oh crap._ Would they know? Would people know?

Then, as if it were some perverse joke thrown them from heavens above to exacerbate the entire situation, Gaara spoke up.

"You're coming home with me tonight."

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><p>Reviews would be most welcome. They spur me on. :'D<p> 


	6. Six

**A/N: **_*ducks from flying tomatoes*_ I'm so sorry for my prolonged absence again! Life caught up with me and I had to put _Arm Candy _on hold, until one reader sent in this review, saying Arm Candy was his/her (and I quote) "life source". THEN I realised what a bloody tyrant/evil writer I was, and decided I had to forego some readings and bang this out first, so that I wouldn't feel guilty. LOL.  
>Thank you for bearing with me and giving this fanfic so much love. I apologise in advance for any mistakes you might stumble upon later. Please let me know if you do.<p>

Well, enough babbling - presenting Chapter 6 of_ Arm Candy. _;)

**Disclaimer:** Naruto and all characters are created by Masashi Kishimoto. No profits whatsoever are made from this fanfiction in anyway.

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><p><em>6.<em>

"What?" Hinata almost shot off her seat, her eyes wide, her mouth going dry at the prospect of 'going home' with Gaara. Oh she knew that he hadn't meant it in _that_ way of course, but the fact that he was asking her to spend a night with him was enough to make her head explode. "That's-that's not necessary."

He jerked his head to the rear view mirror, where a couple of vans were trundling behind them, keeping at a steady speed with the Chevy. "The paps aren't gonna relent. This is _Highwynne_ City, Hinata. They aren't going to let a little car escape deter them." He scowled.

"I know," She sighed, leaning forward to peer at the rearview mirror. Before she could think better, she blurted out: "My god, you're _really_ worth all the trouble, aren't you?"

A slow smile turned up the corners of Gaara's mouth although his jade eyes were still fixed on the road.

"No, don't answer that." Hinata said wearily, a tinge of wry humour evident in her soft voice as she leaned her elbow against the windowsill, her forehead braced against her hand. Licking chapped lips nervously, she started to mull over the idea but Gaara interrupted her thought process with his own explanation.

"Look, it doesn't matter if I drop you off at your house or mine - they'll ambush you tomorrow morning. They'll want to get something out of either one of us, there's no doubt about that. And when you come out _without_ your contacts -"

"They'll go crazy." Hinata relented. She turned over various options in her mind, but found dead-ends to them.

Gaara nodded.

It wouldn't be fair to tire the redhead out even more by suggesting he drive in meaningless circles to shake the paps off.

Hinata had to admit that staying with the captain in his apartment frightened her more than facing the paparazzi. Well, either situation was equally nerve-wracking for her. She hadn't stayed over at anyone's house since she was _eleven_ for Kami's sake. And that had been with girls who wanted to giggle and talk about boys all night, not with a man like the redhead who probably took women home for paranormal activities of the other kind.

"Where will you be heading... if I follow you back?"

There was a lengthy pause before he replied, "My home on Dente Street."

Hinata glanced at him. He stared through the windshield, expression unreadable.

"You changed your mind?" She murmured quietly.

"Can you think of any place better?"

"No." She answered honestly. "Ironically, I think it's a good place for you during this period. You're going to need your privacy." The paps knew where his old apartment was. Going back to the house on Dente Street meant he would have security and privacy, even if the house did dredge up painful memories for him. Hinata felt it served as a physical reminder that he couldn't - and shouldn't - keep it as shrine to his mother. A house was a place where you created memories, both good and bad. It wasn't a space designed to hide the past so that you could avoid the future. The Furyoku siblings' presence in town was proof of that.

Gaara didn't acknowledge her statement. "I've got spare clothes that you can borrow. I left a pile of them there from the last time."

_From another woman?_ she mused, trying to tamp down her wry smile and turning her head towards the window so that he couldn't see her. It wasn't her business really, who he dated or slept with, as long as it didn't erupt into a scandal. He was a good looking athlete who had passion for his profession and in the industry, men like him usually did not turn down such offers from beautiful women.

"Right." She nodded.

"You've got no choice really." He glanced at her again, the shadows in the car slanting mysterious black planes on his handsome face. "If you think I'm throwing you to the press alone, you're dead wrong."

Hinata blinked. "Even if you did, I'd be fine."

Which was the truth. How much hurt could flashing lightbulbs and questions hurt her?

Hinata inhaled subtly. Then exhaled even more quietly. "Ok. We are go. You've had a long night too. You need to rest."

He chuckled. "You need it as much as I do. You got wine thrown at you, you got your palm sliced open -"

"I didn't get _sliced_ open," She corrected, but couldn't help smiling. "I had a _cut_, that's all."

"Same damn meaning. Still, pretty spunky."

"I think anyone would do what I did tonight."

"Yeah? How come nobody stepped forward?" He shot back.

"Ms Furyoku and her brother did the same." She said quietly. It was the very truth.

A cool silence descended over them within the car, further amplified by the lack of the radio or any music and unhelpfully supplemented by the muted tick-tock of the dashboard and the car signals.

Uh-oh.

She should have known the Furyoku siblings were a taboo topic around him. Considering the fact that he'd shared with her his childhood and past and understood his reason for his animosity toward them, she should have known. Yet, she reflected that the siblings weren't to blame for their father's errors. If her calculations were right, they had just been kids who didn't have an inkling what their father had been up. From the short exchange she had with the attractive siblings earlier, she could tell they were wealthy but decent people without any airs. If they did, they would have scurried away the moment Miraimi Yui stepped forward and made a scene, much less followed Gaara to the hospital to make sure they were alright.

"I'm sorry." Hinata glanced at him. "I understand you aren't in the mood to talk about this now." She would pursue this later, but Hinata knew it was affecting him on emotionally despite his calm demeanour.

Gaara shook his head curtly. "Don't apologise. I knew they were going to relay this news to me, sooner or later."

They turned into a quieter road, leaving the zoom of the cars on the highway behind them.

"You knew?"

He nodded tightly. "I chanced upon the obituary section in the newspaper."

Hinata murmured her condolences again. The only reaction she received from the redhead was the clenching of his jaw.

In a matter of minutes, Gaara had left the busy highway, trundled past quieter streets and onto the same brightly lit driveway with elegant houses littering the neighbourhood they had visited a couple of days back.

The idea of bunking at his home he once shared with his mother for the night was a little too new and foreign for his own liking, but Gaara had to admit that Hinata's presence made it easier. If it had been any other woman, he wouldn't have even considered the idea.

In fact, in the past, a part of him had automatically eliminated the possibility of him bringing back any of the women he'd dated to his house.

Gaara didn't want to delve too deeply into the main reason behind it. He had enough shit at hand to settle, and he wanted to sleep.

Glancing in the rearview mirror, the redhead noted with satisfaction that he'd shook off the paparazzi for now. He had done a few fake turns and went back on the highway earlier, which had worked. Considering the fact that the paparazzi were supposed to have the upper hand since they had engaged in more than one celebrity car chase, he guessed the paps weren't as resourceful or persistent as he'd thought they would be.

Taking his car round the back of the house, Gaara slid the Chevy in the garage and both of them got out.

Leading Hinata into the house, he flicked on the lights near the door and tried to remember when the housekeeper he'd hired had dropped by to clean his apartment. If his memory served him right, Mrs Hatoki had just dropped in last week. Which meant that the bedsheets were at least clean to sleep in, and not too dusty.

"Want a drink, Hinata?"

She hesitated only for a moment. "Yes please, thank you."

His house was as perfect and as untouched as she had remembered it. Following Gaara, Hinata set her clutch down on the shiny, black granite-topped island and sat herself at a bar stool, eyeing the way he tossed his car keys into a small bowl and draped his blazer over the back of a stool.

"You can take the spare room on the second floor. It's right next to the master bedroom. I'll show it to you later."

Hinata nodded and murmured her thanks, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the drastic change in light.

"May I switch on the television?" She asked, gesturing at the large and sleek plasma television hanging on a wall in the living room.

Gaara raised an eyebrow, but wordlessly switched it on.

"ESPN?"

A faint smile drifted across her lips. "Not yet. The local news channel, please."

He punched a few buttons on the remote.

"...party, where a woman, claiming to be pregnant with rugby player Sabaku Gaara's child, threatened to kill herself with a glass shard. During what turned out to be a dramatic confrontation, Sabaku, along with an unidentified woman, successfully subdued her even before the police arrived. Police say that Miraimi, who has suicidal tendencies, is receiving treatment at the hospital and that she will be placed under twenty-four/seven security. The Internet is currently rife with footages of the confrontation, with netizens split on whether Sabaku is really the father of the unborn child. The rugby player declined to speak to the press when leaving the hospital with a female friend. Meanwhile, there are rumours that the wealthy Furyoku siblings, Furyoku Temari and Kankurou, are _half-siblings_ of the famous rugby player, after a janitor overheard Ms Furyoku speaking to Sabaku at the hospital. Both siblings were seen at the Hawk's pre-game party and were also seen stepping forward to help Sabaku during the fracas. The Furyokus declined to speak to the press when leaving the hospital. This rumour comes shortly after property tycoon Furyoku Sabashi's passing earlier this year. In football..."

"Oh no." Hinata said faintly.

"Bloody hell." Gaara muttered, draining the glass of water in his hand after handing Hinata her own glass. "They'll be beating down on my fucking gates even before morning comes."

Hinata's phone rang and she almost fell out of her seat. The owner of the Sand Hawks had just put a call through.

"Hello?"

Jiraiya's tired voice floated through the speaker. "Hinata, this is Jiraiya here. Did you watch the news?"

"Yes." She kneaded her forehead. "They press are going to hound Gaara and the Furyoku siblings at this rate."

"He'll need a goddamn _disguise_." Jiraiya said in a tone that meant he was kidding of course, but Hinata could hear the frustration oozing from the owner's voice and trickling over into her ears. "I spoke to head coach Baki earlier - coach says he wants to give Sabaku time to sort out his family matters before hauling his ass back to training and prep. There's still enough time before the official game, but we're tight on schedule." There was an exhausted sigh and a pause.

"Anyway, we'll thrash this out in time. Have a good rest tonight. You must be dead beat."

Hinata hung up with Jiraiya after exchanging a few more words with him.

Gaara, who had settled into one of the bar stools opposite her, was answering a call of his own. He had propped the side of his head against his knuckles.

"No, I did not... _No_."

Understanding that the captain needed privacy of his own, Hinata slid off the stool and wandered to the living room. She couldn't help but hear his next few words, which weren't exactly soft-spoken.

"Yes - they wanted to talk to me and have a bloody family reunion, but who the hell-"

Silence fell again. "Yeah," He suddenly said grudgingly. "Nan. Let me correct you - you _don't _want to meet them."

There was a pause, during which Hinata could almost imagine Gaara raking one hand through his thick hair.

"_Why_ would you want to meet them?"

There was another pause and he said rather gruffly, "You know I'll always have time for you."

Hinata raised an eyebrow when she heard his tone, her curiosity about the identity of the caller piqued even more after that statement. _Who could it be,_ she wondered. _Nan. Hm._

"_Tomorrow_?" He said incredulously. There was yet another heavy pause, followed by a flat, "I don't want to acknowledge them."

Hinata forced herself not to eavesdrop on him and wandered deeper into the living room to mute the television. She had a hefty task ahead and she had absolutely no idea what she needed to do. Years of experience in this field had not been enough to account for such a unique instance where her client had a pregnancy scandal plaguing him, and _on top of that_, discovered he had half-siblings who wanted to get to know him better. How was one supposed to react to that?

"Hinata."

Turning, she appraised Gaara's tall form as he exited the kitchen, his phone in one hand.

"Hey." She said. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah." He pocketed his hands and wandered over to her. "That was my grandmother."

Hinata didn't feign nonchalance.

"Your _grandmother_?" She asked, surprise filtering through her voice.

"Yeah, Nan. My mum's mother." A sardonic smile tugged at his mouth. "She saw me." He jerked his thumb at the muted television, as though that explained everything.

Hinata blinked twice. Ah. "I see. And what did she say?"

"The usual questions; whether I was responsible or not, where the hell I'd met her. And," He exhaled, brows lowering as he crossed his arms across his chest. "She wants to meet Temari and Kankurou."

"Wow," Hinata eventually said, forehead creasing.

"She's open-minded that way. She figures that if they'd made such an effort to reach out to me, then they must be nice people, and that I'm being churlish as usual."

Hinata hid a smile.

"Did you agree to her request?"

"No. But then again, no one ever wins an argument with Nan." He grimaced.

She couldn't help it, as a smile creeped onto her face. "Wow. She must be something."

"She is."

"When is this meeting going to happen?"

"She asked me if _tomorrow_ works." He scowled and rubbed the side of his face. "For some reason, she's bloody excited about meeting Temari and Kankurou."

"Tomorrow?" Her eyebrows shot into her forehead. "And you agreed?"

His jaw clenched, and he looked as though he was going to be hauled to the gallows.

"I couldn't say no."

A bubble of laughter welled up in Hinata's chest and expanded outward. Smothering a laughter, she tried not to look at Gaara.

"You think this is funny?" Gaara growled. A quick sweep at his face told her that his eyes were glinting with good humour despite his indignant tone.

"Well, I've been fretting over how I should broach the topic of your siblings with you, but it appears that your grandmother has handled that for me."

Gaara studied her carefully.

"What were you going to suggest?"

"You wouldn't like it."

"The worst has already happened." He shrugged and waited for her response, jade eyes expectant. "C'mon Hinata."

"Something along the lines of acknowledging your siblings and making peace with them," Hinata suggested quietly. "I think your Nan's idea of meeting your half-siblings, and getting to know them, without any of the biasness that has so far," She paused and sighed, "_plagued_ your opinions of your siblings, is the best solution."

He narrowed his eyes at her, but she ploughed on. "You need to get all these emotional problems out of your system before you can fully commit to preparing and training for the seasonal game. If I may be so bold as to say...I understand how important the games are to you, I would like to suggest that you bite the bullet and face up to this family reunion that you don't want, but need to see to."

She expected some sort of vehement reply, but Gaara merely studied her with his piercing eyes, jaw ticking.

"You've got a point," He replied, his tone frustrated, eyes cool and hard. Gaara exhaled and half-turned away. "A necessary evil that I intend to get over and done with. You've got their name card, don't you?"

"Yes. Would you like me to contact Temari?"

He shrugged. "By all means." He gave her his grandmother's address and a timing, along with directions to her house. Hinata made a call to Temari and conveyed the message to her, while Gaara undid his tie and pulled it till it hung around his neck carelessly.

"Thank _you_," Temari told Hinata over the phone, sounding happy to hear from her. "I understand its been a long night for you both. I hope all is well?"

"Yes," Hinata offered. "We managed to shake the reporters off."

A husky, feminine chuckle was the response. "Good. We lost them too, on the highway. Thank you very much, Ms Hyuuga for the arrangement."

They ended the call with goodnights, afterwhich Gaara brought Hinata up to the spare guest room on the second floor. The room held no musky odour or stench despite being unused, the bedspread clean and straightened neatly to perfection. The entire room was painted a neutral shade of beige and cream, with a silver, digital alarm clock on the bedside table and an empty, walk-in wardrobe with frosted, sliding doors. Situated directly opposite the king-sized bed was an ensuite bathroom. Flimsy grey curtains fluttered in a small breeze from the window.

Gaara left Hinata momentarily to retrieve some spare shirts and garments, while Hinata turned to the mirror set in the spacious walk-in wardrobe, wondering how on earth she was going to get her dress off her. The dress was designed to zip up her spine discreetly, but the zip had gotten lodged not even one quarter down the length, when she tested its path down her spine. When she had gotten dressed earlier in the day, she had had a tough time zipping it up, even breaking into a heavy sweat in the midst of it all.

Licking her lips nervously, she turned around quickly just as Gaara entered the room with a neatly folded stack of clothes and fluffy white towels.

"I've got a shirt and shorts for you, and some towels. I'm not sure if the shirt fits though. You can probably use it as a dress," He said, grinning as he placed them on the corner of her bed.

"Oh," Hinata laughed. "I'll be fine. At least I've got clothes that I can wear to bed tonight, instead of going to bed without..." She trailed off, suddenly realising what she was about to say.

_Oh lord._

Gaara stared at her from where he stood, his jade eyes looking almost thoughtful as he pocketed one hand and leaned one shoulder against the door frame.

"Indeed," He replied lazily, his suddenly heavy gaze roaming down the length of her, a small smile curling the corner of his mouth.

"W-well, goodnight, Gaara," She said, trying to look as though her face hadn't been set on fire. She felt hot and embarrassed and stupid.

His smile spread across his lips slowly. "Goodnight."

He turned to leave, closing the door behind him quietly.

Hinata went back to the mirror and reached behind herself to tug the zipper down, her arms in a painfully awkward position as she struggled to pull the stubborn little mechanism down.

How stupid of her to make such remarks. What an embarrassment that was! No doubt Gaara was laughing at her in the privacy of his own room.

Hell, on a more sophisticated and confident woman, the little quip back there could have been a pick-up line or a seductive beckoning, but coming from her, it sounded plain lame.

To add to Hinata's frustration, the zip in her dress wouldn't budge, refusing to even move a millimetre no matter how hard she tugged it in the opposite direction. Deciding that she would zip it up again before unzipping it, Hinata tried to pull it up and close the small, V-gap of skin that had been revealed.

Yet the zipper remained firmly lodged in its tracks.

Sweating and panicking, Hinata tried to tug it up again with all her might. When that failed dismally, she tugged the zip down, but it remained stubbornly stuck in the deep line of the fragile gown. She attempted the same routine for the next few minutes, but nothing worked. On the verge of tearing the gown apart with her bare hands, Hinata inhaled shakily and forced herself to release the back collar of the gown, her heart pounding furiously, arms aching from the awkward position she had put it in.

Damn it, was going to require assistance.

_Do __or_ die, Hinata thought, drawing in a deep breath and wrenched her door open.  
><span>

**XXXXX**

Going to bed naked indeed, Gaara thought with a short grin, as he made quick work of his white dress shirt, the memory of Hinata's crimson-tainted cheeks floating in his mind's eye. If his proper publicist _really, truly _slept in the nude at night, he would have donated his entire annual paycheck to Naruto and allowed his blond teammate to go on a ramen-eating rampage.

His grin was wiped off his face when he imagined Hinata sliding beneath the covers, her body naked and gleaming in the slice of moonlight that always permeated the thin bedroom curtains. Blood churned turbulently in his veins at the thought of her getting all sleepy, warm and lush in the other bed.

Jesus. What the fuck was wrong with him?

A soft knock at his door jerked Gaara out of his reverie just as he tossed his shirt onto his bed, where it joined his dark tie. His blazer was already draped carelessly over the back of a low, navy blue couch in one corner, long shrugged off after he had entered his bedroom. Clad only in his dark pants, the redhead strode to the bedroom door and opened it, wondering if Hinata needed help of any sort.

"Hey," He said, registering the sight of an embarrassed looking Hinata standing on the other side, still clad in her seafoam gown. "Everything okay?"

"Well yes... and no." Hinata shook her head, a self-deprecating smile on her lips as he raised one eyebrow. "I mean, I can't u-unzip my gown." She sighed and swallowed, looking up to meet his gaze.

He saw her eyes dropping momentarily to his chest as thick silence draped itself lazily over them, the peculiar atmosphere slowly transforming into something fraught with...tension...

...that was not entirely unpleasant, he noticed with interest. He had almost forgotten he was shirtless. Grinning inwardly, he adopted a blank expression instead and looked down expectantly at her.

Hinata cleared her throat, and swallowed, her eyes averted from his chest, landing on his sternum instead.

"C-could you help me with my gown please?"

She turned quickly and presented him with her back, where a zip, measuring less than the length of his fingernail, was lodged stubbornly within the frothy gown. A very small, fair triangle of skin peeked out at him shyly from the top of the gown's back.

He grunted and reached for the zipper, feeling big and clumsy as he grasped the tiny thing and grasped the smooth, slippery material of the gown's back for leverage within his thumb and forefinger, so that the force of the zipper was focused southwards. Tugging at the zipper, he was met with surprising resistance.

"You need to...tug it...way harder," Hinata advised, her voice slightly breathless as he murmured a curse. "I've - I've b-been at it for at least ten minutes. It won't budge."

"Jesus Christ." He muttered. "The dresses that women get into. Ok, here we go. Brace yourself."

Giving the zipper a particularly hard and vicious yank, he felt the zipper give way, sliding down the length of her back in an uncontrolled speed, revealing a wide expanse of fair skin.

"Fuck yes," Gaara swore. His thumb brushed the smoothness of her back, sending a jolt of awareness through him.

"You did it!" Hinata gasped, as the low '_zurp_' sound was produced as a result of the zipper being slid down successfully. She whirled around, making him release his hold on the dress. With a startled yelp, Hinata clutched at the material futilely as it succumbed to gravity's allure and fell to her knees.

"Oh shoot," She gasped, bending to grab the soft material and drag it up over her body.

But it was too late, Gaara realised. He had been treated to a quick glimpse of the generous swells of her breasts, the plumpness of her fair thighs, the indent of her waist and the flare of her hips...

Instinctively, he turned around quickly, pocketing his hands in his trouser pockets as he heard her fumble about with the gown.

"Sorry," He rumbled to the wall, his voice slightly husky. "You turned around and I just had to let go-"

"No, no, it's m-my f-fault." She murmured. "Oh gosh, I'm so sorry you had to see that-"

What the hell did she mean by that?

"What?" He asked, forehead creasing, tempted to turn around. Some debauched part of him said that he definitely wasn't sorry he'd seen her without her dress. So why was she feeling sorry for _him_? Before he could ask her what on earth was that all about, Hinata spoke again.

"I - I'm going back to my room. Thank you so much - for - for your h-help." He could feel her embarrassment cloaking her tone as she realised she was babbling. "Goodnight." She added hurriedly.

There were a few quick footsteps, some shuffling, and the sound of a door closing behind him.

Gaara released his breath and turned to meet the empty landing, not even realising that he had been holding his breath for the past few moments.

"Mother of god," He muttered, blinking, his heart beginning a rapid tempo.

Hyuuga Hinata was curvy as hell. There was no mistaking that, especially when he had seen it for himself. She reminded him of a pin-up girl, with those real, lush curves that he appreciated on a woman.

Running one hand down his face again, he shook his head and proceeded into his bedroom, attempting to banish the not-so-innocent thoughts of the woman in the next bedroom from his mind.

Talk about imagining a woman naked, and then having his wish come true in the next few seconds.

What the hell?

* * *

><p>Thank you! :')<p> 


	7. Seven

A/N: Hello hello, I'm back from the dead. Lol. My sincere apologies about the prolonged silence on Arm Candy, because I've had to deal with life. *sighs. Here you go guys, chapter seven.

Disclaimer: _Naruto_ and all characters are created by and belong to Masashi Kishimoto.

* * *

><p><em>7.<em>

One usually associated the word 'grandma' with rotund, apple-cheeked women who were motherly and wore round spectacles with a benevolent smile on their faces, but Chiyo was nothing like that. Well she did look like your typical grandmother, but the moment Gaara's granny opened her mouth, she completely rocked Hinata's general assumptions and stereotypes about grandmothers.

Bright-eyed and perceptive with a a wicked sense of humour, she was also comically straightforward with her grandson, who interacted with her with a sort of tired appreciation and uncharacteristic warmth only reserved for people close to him.

"Gaara, is this your new girlfriend?" She asked, eyes wide as she turned to the redhead the moment they stepped into the threshold. "Well, it's about _damn_ time you brought someone _decent_ home young man, and not one of those Barbies. This one has a real waist, at least! Well done, you!"

"Hinata is not my girlfriend, she's my publicist." Gaara deadpanned, while Hinata tried not to laugh when Chiyo's face fell.

"What a shame." Chiyo said, clucking her tongue as she shooed them in. "Well, m'dear," She turned and patted Gaara on the chest. "You need to know when to mix business and pleasure now and then!"

The Hyuuga felt a rapid flush rising up her neck at the suggestion as Chiyo shooed them in.

"Don't mind her." Gaara muttered to Hinata.

"You think you're so good-looking? You think you're NRL's hottest player don't you? Well let's see if any woman wants you when you're old and shrivelled up like a prune and you can't get old John Henry up, Gaara!" Chiyo glared at her grandson in mock anger.

"Could you _not_ mention anything lewd for the next five hours?" Gaara grumbled, glancing at Hinata who had bit her lower lip but was unable to stop herself from grinning.

"That depends on my mood," Chiyo retorted matter-of-factly.

Pleasantries were exchanged very quickly, and Hinata couldn't help but be drawn into the lively banter that Chiyo kept up while she flitted around the surprisingly modern looking cottage-style lodge with equally modern furnishings (a cheery red deck chair with white stripes on the patio, a huge LED TV hanging on the wall and modern, black furniture). Hinata also discovered that Chiyo owned a coffee brown and white bulldog called Pocchari, who loped out of the master bedroom to greet them when Chiyo brought them around the house. All in all, it was as though Little Red Riding Hood's granny had been given a chic, digital makeover.

When Gaara had said his grandmother lived in the suburbs (to be specific, a hardwood forest), Hinata hadn't imagined _this - _the gorgeous lakefront view a huge window in the living room afforded them was enough to make her eyes widen momentarily.

"Wow," She murmured in appreciation of the expansive lake stretching lazily before her, flanked by emerald hills. The dark clouds rolling across the sky only made the landscape more dramatic with its varying shadows and light rays.

"Gorgeous, isn't it?" Chiyo popped up beside her with a plate of biscuits. "You should see it on a sunny day. That's Lake Tanuki by the way - it's kind of shaped like a tanuki when you view it from the air, hence the name. I've got inns all around the lake which I rent out to people - makes for a really _romantic_ getaway in the wild," She raised her eyebrows suggestively, which made Hinata chuckle. "We're known for pretty wild windstorms around here during this period, so there ain't too many people renting my cottages and lodges for now."

The crunch of the gravel outside and the throb of a car's engine signalled the arrival of the Furyokus, which made Gaara tensed up and Chiyo's eyes gleam.

"Here they are," She announced triumphantly to them. "Just on time!"

Hinata got up, unsure of what to do. She felt a little like a voyeur in this glammed up version of a reunion involving an overpaid rugby player and his conglomerate running siblings. Although Hinata had suggested that Gaara leave her out of this, it seemed the redhead was unwilling to do so.

"I need you with me," He'd said on an exhale on their way to Chiyo's. "Sorry to cramp your style, but I'm making you come along with me on this." He said, referring to her cancelled weekend plans. She had to tell a few of her friends with whom she had made plans earlier, that she was tied up with work (which was true).

"That's alright," Hinata had said. "Comes with the job."

When they had left, Hinata had been relieved to note that only a few stray reporters had actually camped outside his apartment. Although the car's tinted windows had prevented them from getting a picture of her, Hinata had worn sunglasses and a cap just to be safe, which she promptly discarded after they hit the highway._ Occupational hazards, _she thought with a quiet sigh, and momentarily remembered how she had flashed him the night before. Feeling the heat flood through her again, Hinata quickly stamped out the memory and straightened just in time to see Temari and Kankurou entering the next moment, closely followed by Chiyo. Despite Chiyo's lively personality which immediately put both siblings at ease, Gaara seemed to be the dark cloud in the otherwise sunny sky.

Gaara's grandmother plied them with tea and biscuits, as Pocchari, the bulldog, sat near Kankurou, his tongue hanging out of his mouth. Gaara and Hinata occupied the sofa opposite Kankurou and Temari, while Chiyo sat on a black armchair. She sat in a completely relaxed manner, her body language completely at odds with Gaara, who sat with his arms folded across his chest.

Temari, who was dressed in a lovely beige pantsuit, her blond hair curled around her face as though she had tied it in a ponytail while her hair was wet, was the only one other than Hinata who was engaged in conversation with Chiyo. The women talked about the weather and where the Furyoku siblings were currently staying at in Highwynne City.

Kankurou, dressed in a casual shirt and jeans, occasionally threw in a few quips but was otherwise quiet.

"I'm sorry about your father." Chiyo finally said, dark eyes meeting Temari's. "My daughter was madly in love with him, even though he was married."

Temari's eyes dropped to the glass coffee table. "We had no knowledge about his relationship with your daughter. It was only on his deathbed that he told us about it. To say that we were shocked is a major understatement." She lifted brilliant teal eyes. "He told us he wanted to make amends."

A sneer curled Gaara's lips. Temari noted with distracted interest how his publicist had placed one hand soothingly on Gaara's arm, her white eyes flicking to him.

"He had plenty of time to make amends before my mother passed away." He retorted.

"Look," Kankurou said, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees. "We're sorry to hear about our father's transgressions. My sister and I aren't able to erase the pain our father put you and your mum through, but we're sure of one thing - that we _want_ to acknowledge you as our brother. Although," Kankurou's eyes hardened. "Your jackass attitude is making me regret it."

Gaara smiled, but it wasn't what you would call a friendly smile. "How unfortunate."

Chiyo rolled her eyes. "_Boys_. Good god. I didn't know you were so eager to catch up on lost time."

Temari and Hinata caught each other's gazes, but quickly averted eyes before either of them laughed aloud.

"The hell we are," Gaara crossed his arms over his chest and scowled.

"Well," Chiyo said, blatantly ignoring the redhead. "Won't you two stay for lunch? I definitely am not passing up the chance to observe overdue sibling rivalry over a meal."

Temari looked as though she was going to cough up her tea. Kankurou and Gaara wore a look on their faces akin to two boys who had been caught squabbling over their favourite toy. Hinata could only beamed from her seat.

Chiyo might just be the solution to this reunion reluctance on Gaara's part.

"We'll be pleased to of course," Temari said, accepting gracefully. "If you insist, Chiyo."

"Of course," Chiyo said, "I won't accept a no." She chuckled a small chuckle, as though enjoying some little joke only she was privy to. "Now Temari and Hinata, if you will be so kind as to help me with the preparations in the kitchen, it will save me a great deal of time."

"Sure," Temari grinned. "If you don't mind an inexperienced assistant, I will be happy to help out."

Chiyo laughed.

"Gaara, Kankurou," The older woman said mildly. "If you don't mind, Pocchari needs to go out on a walk. Do take his skateboard along, won't you?"

"_Skateboard_?" Kankurou asked incredulously. He looked as though someone had just told him the moon was made of cheese.

"He skates." Gaara muttered.

"He does?" Temari asked faintly, staring at the bulldog and his white rolls of stomach fat.

"He does." Chiyo replied cheerfully. "Now let's get cracking!"

* * *

><p>Kankurou was pretty sure he was in some sort of a bad dream - someone had thrown him into a post-card like landscape and forced him to walk a dog who could actually <em>skateboard, <em>thisall with Gaara no less, who happened to be his half-brother and _former_ idol of worship. Important word being _former_.

Jesus.

He glanced down at the dog, who was merrily pushing itself forward with his right fore and hind leg on the pale grey asphalt while he showed off on his black skateboard, tongue lolling out of his mouth. The folds on his face only served to accentuate his happy expression. It was tough not to be tickled by him, and Kankurou was just barely hanging onto his grim demeanour.

Pocchari had gone berserk the moment Chiyo handed the skateboard to Kankurou when they were getting ready to leave for his walk. The dog had howled with delight, thrown himself bodily at Kankurou's jean-clad leg and covered the material with sloppy kisses.

Chiyo had said the dog didn't need a leash - he was skateboarding fast enough to race ahead of them on the pavement, but Pocchari always made sure to look over his shoulder, as though to reassure them that he wouldn't go too fast. The dog was happy alright, but other than that, the two men who were walking him were anything but cordial.

Gaara and Kankurou walked together in grudging silence, their breaths puffing out in white puffs of smoke. It was clear that it was much colder up here, though not cold enough to require a thick jacket.

It was also clear that neither man wanted to be the first to break the chilly silence.

_Over my dead body,_ Kankurou thought with childish glee. _Let's see who speaks first._

And so they trudged on decidedly in silence, until they were about 15 minutes from Chiyo's lodge, where the road turned to gravel and Gaara had to get Pocchari to stop his skateboarding. The dog whined a little, but decided to run further ahead, kicking up the leaves as he pounded along the gravel.

Kankurou kept his mouth clamped shut, gaze fixed ahead.

Overheard, birds high in the trees began chirping shrilly, the only sounds punctuating the silence... but this was soon followed by a hair-raising howl of '_whoooo'_ that made both men stop in their tracks and stare at one another.

Gaara and Kankurou immediately picked up their pace and sprinted in the direction where Pocchari had last gambolled away.

Following the second howl (which sounded odd and dim as though Pocchari was actually barking through some object), they managed to track the dog down.

"What the hell?" Kankurou heard Gaara say as both men halted at a nearby tree trunk that had fallen across the forest floor, probably due to a windstorm. Kankurou turned quickly, and saw that Pocchari's head had become stuck in a hallowed Spitzenberg apple tree trunk with a circumference smaller than his pudgy body, his backside wiggling frantically at the gnarled, spiky end of the dead tree's skeleton, where uneven splinters protruded. The front half of him was stuck firmly in the remains of one end of the trunk. The entire thing was about five feet long.

"Holy crap," Kankurou said, and began laughing so hard, he had to bend over from the force of it.

"I'm glad you find this immensely funny," Gaara said sarcastically, going to the dog at once and soothing his backside with reassuring pats. "Here boy, stay. Pocchari. _Stay_." His voice turned commanding as Gaara crouched on his haunches and grasped the dog firmly.

Pocchari whined again, his howl bouncing off from inside the trunk, creating a supernatural sound.

Kankurou wiped away his tears and came to them, trying to stifle his chuckles. "Windstorm felled the tree?"

Gaara nodded. "It's common around here."

"Seems like the old guy had osteoporosis." Kankurou gestured at the trunk.

Gaara grunted in response, trying to gently nudge Pocchari out from the trunk by compressing his fat rolls.

"Don't. It's too rough," Kankurou said at once. "He'll get bloodied from the inside."

"I know. But how would _you_ get him out?" Gaara demanded.

"Chill." Kankurou said, nonchalantly. "I was thinking of getting a saw here and sawing off a fraction of the trunk so that we can get him out."

Pocchari whined again, as though in agreement.

"I'm not sure if Nan has one." The redhead said surly. "I'd call her if I had hands but I can't. I gotta hold Pocchari still. Put a call through her and ask her. She'll know where to look for us."

Kankurou dialled back to the lodge after Gaara recited Chiyo's number to him. The dark haired man explained to her what was happening on the other end and Chiyo told him "a saw will be coming soon".

The older woman sounded calm - apparently, it wasn't the first time Pocchari had gotten stuck in objects.

The two men waited with the poor bulldog, who was getting tired after his unsuccessful attempts at wriggling out of the trunk. He had a few scratches on his skin, which Gaara tried to soothe and minimise by alternating between holding him and patting him. Kankurou went round to front part of the log and inspected it for a moment. He tried to use his leg to smash it in, but the trunk was not brittle enough for a grown man's force to make it give way.

"You'll break your leg," Gaara said as he observed him.

"You'd like that, eh?"

"Perhaps." The redhead scowled. "It's only the thought of having to care for you that makes me hope you don't break your leg."

They sent each other equally sardonic looks.

"I brought the saw," A third voice joined them. Both men turned, only to see Temari huffing and puffing down the lane, as she heaved a chain saw to them in her pantsuit.

"Holy crap," Kankurou said as he went over to help her, laughing. "I should have taken a picture of that. Shikamaru would have loved it. You, in a pantsuit and chainsaw."

"Shut up," Temari retorted to him. "Take this, come on! It's not like I had other fashion options for this trip."

Gaara glanced at Kankurou sharply. _Shikamaru?_ He filed the piece of information away for analysing later. It couldn't be...

The redhead glanced at Temari's ring finger, where the gleam of a ring confirmed his hypothesis. He lifted his eyes and met Temari's gaze, but said nothing. He wondered if the Shikamaru they spoke of was the same man he knew...

Kankurou set the chainsaw down and fiddled with it.

"Do you know how to use it?" His older sister asked him skeptically.

"Yeah." He said, and the saw gave a loud whirring sound as he flicked something on. "Piece of cake." Gaara raised an eyebrow as Kankurou brought it tentatively near the trunk.

Pocchari whined and started at the sound of the chainsaw.

"There boy," Temari cooed, crouching down beside Gaara. "It's okay."

The bulldog's tail began wagging, as Gaara held him still.

"How'd he get stuck?" She asked, teal eyes shining with amazement.

"He likes to poke his nose in things. Literally." Gaara replied. She glanced at him and grinned. "I see."

"His head is somewhere here," Gaara told Kankurou, drawing an imaginary line at a part of the trunk.

"Don't want to chop off his head now, do we?" The dark haired man chuckled. "Got it."

It took a few saws and cuts before three-quarters of the trunk fell away, fine wooddust flying in the air as the machine growled and worked its way through the old, fallen tree.

"You're almost there," Gaara shouted over the loud whirring sound from the saw. The redhead motioned for him to stop when most of the wood had fallen apart, and they could break off the wood pieces with their hands. They didn't want to saw too near to Pocchari's head, who would be frightened by the noise and sight of a saw near him.

"Beware of the splinters," Gaara warned Temari as she made to help them pull the sawed part of the tree trunk away so that they could actually see Pocchari's head from the other end.

"Not to worry," She said cheerfully. The blond crouched down in front of the newly sawed hole and put her hand in so that Pocchari could smell her. She managed to touch something soft and wet - his nose no doubt. "There boy, we're going to get you out of this tree alright?"

Pocchari whined once more, this time more audible and dog-like.

The two men worked at breaking away parts of the wood with their hands, until Pocchari's head could be seen from above.

"Hey watch it!" Gaara suddenly said, as Kankurou's hand was thrown back sharply from the momentum of having plucked away at an obstinate piece of splinter obscuring the hole.

"Holy. Fuck." The darkhaired man swore as his hand landed on a particularly gnarled part of the bark. Crimson blood oozed down from his palm and fell onto the soil.

"Oh my god, you're bleeding!" Temari shooed him away quickly from the trunk. "Press it with your shirt! Make sure you wash your wound when you get back, Kankurou."

"Yare yare," Kankurou said, waving Temari's lecture away. "It's just a scratch."

Gaara raised an eyebrow. "Then why'd it bleed so much?"

"Yeah," Temari chimed in sarcastically.

"Oh shut up, the both of you," He muttered. Temari looked at Gaara and grinned, where a faint smile had intruded on his expression. His smile suddenly disappeared, as though he remembered he was supposed to be pissed at her, and he promptly went back to helping Pocchari out of the trunk. Shrugging off his reaction, Temari went to help Gaara with the dog.

With combined effort from both of them while Kankurou watched, they eventually managed to get the bulldog out, who barked and threw himself at them in joyous gratitude, his tail wagging furiously. After lavishing them with slobbery kisses of thanks and fervent lunging, Gaara had to grab Pocchari away from Temari before he actually pushed her to the ground. Other than a few scratches which Chiyo would probably need to see to, he appeared to be fine.

"Holy shit." Kankurou sighed. "What a bloody adventure."

Then to top it off, a few fat raindrops began to drop onto Kankurou's face. "Sky's peeing," He announced.

Temari grinned and picked up the bulldog, while Gaara moved to heft the saw up carefully.

"Let's go." The redhead said, stalking forward. "There's lunch waiting for us."

Smiling at his back, then at Kankurou, who trudged after him grudgingly his hand wrapped in the hem of his shirt, Temari followed them back, her smile a mile wide.

* * *

><p>The sum total of knowledge I have about tree sawing can't even fill the space between the last word of this sentence and the full-stop. Pardon for any inaccuracies about tree species and chain saws. Hehe.<p> 


End file.
